Something to remember
American novelist William Faulkner said in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech in 1950:
I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion, sacrifice and endurance.
Tip of the hat to another novelist, John Grisham, for using it in his New York Times op-ed piece about the natural disasters of Katrina and Rita and the spirit of humankind. Words on which to found my daily practice.
A shift
One of the reasons that I have reduced my posting frequency on the blog is that I think I was probably trying too hard to put yoga into my life. I was trying to talk myself into it. It's a common mental habit that I have: "If I write it, it must be true." I've felt less compulsion to write, but I think I've been pretty effective in melding yoga into my daily routines --three-four classes a week, daily practice and moments stolen from work to center my mind. My understanding is moving from one state of learning (beginner) to another (having enough experience to start synthesizing the process), from the status in which everything is brand new to a state in which I start to have a handle on my experience. There's a time lag in which this shift is reflected in my writing here.
Teacher merry-go-round
Since early August, I've been taking been taking classes at different times, days and types, doing more at Thrive Yoga in Rockville than at Flow Yoga in DC. At one point during my forced vacation/downtime, I went to classes seven days in a row, as taking an afternoon workshop. Even when I went back to work, I stepped up my frequency of going to class.
I used to be really finicky about selecting my teacher and, consequently, the class that I took. In part, I liked the teaching style of Andrea Franchini, but since she was troubled this year by some health problems and is now abandoning Washington for Peru and eventually the West Coast, I've had to loosen my loyalties.
Another issue with teachers was that I wanted to feel comfortable with them, especially since I feared that my depression might somehow manifest itself in class. Aside from some tears during savasana, that never came out. But being at ease was definitely a prerequisite since my loose connection to my stiff, middle-aged body kept me from doing a lot of poses. I felt like I stuck out in class -- in most cases, I was the oldest (or only) guy in the group.
But now I don't care who the teacher is, or whether it's a Level I or II, or whether it's Anusara or Ashtanga or vinyasa. Because I trust both center managements, I'm sure that I will get a qualified teacher who challenges, but also nurtures. I am more attuned to my inner teacher. I know where my practice is weak and try to focus on improving those areas. I find the Level I classes just as demanding physically as the intermediate classes because I tend to take the poses deeper. I probably feel a lot more comfortable with myself so I feel less self-conscious about the teacher's watching eye.
A new mantra
While trying to rationalize why I was willing to put myself through 90 minutes of sweat, burning muscle and teetering balance, it dawned on me that I wasn't there necessarily for the physical fruits of the class. I wanted that balanced mental and emotional state that comes after a good class -- that rare sensation of being at peace and present. It seemed to be summed up in the words, "Let the yoga take care of it." The "it" being whatever worry, concern, problem, heartache or blues that might be occupying my mind at that moment.
This release recognizes the hidden powers that I possess, and trusts that I will eventually be able to tap into them. Or accepts that the dynamics are beyond my control and that my best course of action is to just ride the wave.
I am making "Let the yoga take care of it" my new mantra that I repeat to myself silently to retrieve the moment of truth that I distill from my practice.
