What I can say about being out of practice for these five days is that a day away from practice feels like a week. I was talking with a colleague the other day who said that he once got nailed in the ribs. But, he said, "I don't think I missed more than a few practices." A few practices feels like so many to me. To him now, it seems like a blip, a millisecond in the grand scheme of things. It's the same here, of course — these days of no practice are small on the long, long road. But I feel like I've been away for a month.
I have been floating a bit, feeling untethered, trying to hold gently these days without anxiety or frustration. I can see how practice has become an anchor, I can feel its absence, I smell the shala on my coat and miss it. And there is something exquisite in this time away, a sort of meta-view that will come with me when I go back — I see now that the softness in the practice that I have been trying to find is tied up in its extraordinary power to slow down time. Each minute full, each breath a bridge from movement to movement, each one a full embrace of each second. When, where else do we observe such an appreciation of time? This lens stays with me, and I look through it to see the morning. Though I am trying to get a bit more sleep these last few days so that my body heals more quickly, I am still up early, and the morning feels long and full, like the belly of the day. I look at the clock and cannot believe how early it still is...the day is long. Spring is here, no doubt...but I see in this rest time that the practice is still with me, even when I am not practicing. Would I have seen how clearly it has changed my perspective if I had not stepped away? I will rethink my Saturdays and Moon Days moving forward — indeed, they are days of rest, but I think they can also be days of reflection.
untethered; a good word, Rebecca. un-moored is the word when i am away too many days (and sometimes on a saturday when at loose ends).
ReplyDeleteIn practice sometimes, when i am really all the way in, i can feel my mind unhinge. It's still there but just... disconnected. every day, i want to get to that real, real let-go feeling. Yoga is dangerous. what happens when you get really unhinged?
A tether, a mooring, a hinge: domestic hardware to keep our things in place.
Emotional hardware for keeping our shit together.
So today, Prasarita Padottanasana C came with a solid woody POP. something moved back there in the back of my thigh.
it didn't hurt. I wasn't scared.
First thought was liberation. Left leg has always been weaker, empty of strength, a marionette leg. in the instant of injury i thought, finally, something will happen with this leg. maybe strength will come. even if through injury.
After practice, the all-day thought was whether to practice Friday.
later. Home. Exhale.
No. tonight I rest. Tomorrow I rest.
Ice packs on the aggrieved thigh. trying to be philosophical, but I am bummed out. A day is a week, Rebecca. when we are well, saturday rest is enough. Am greedy for my blissed out austerities. 5 days of enforced rest feels like exile.
Stamina and endurance, remaining quiet in the flow have all become a posture that i try to engage over the entire practice. it's been a long walk to a 5 and 6 day a week practice. I resent these intrusions.
I do not believe this injury is deep but the real real truth is that if for some reason i couldn't practice, i would be devastated.
Good dog. the asuras won't win.