Question: Why did I pick winter to start this physical/spiritual/mental journey?
Question: Why do I continue when it only seems to get harder instead of easier?
Answer: Never in my life have I done anything the easy way. Why start now? I'm not even sure I believe in the easy way. I was raised to believe that if it was worth doing, it was worth doing right. And anything worthwhile came as a result of hard work and patience.
That said, I get so frustrated with how hard this is. And how much it hurts. It just plain hurts. There's no way to dip that in chocolate and sprinkle peanuts on it. And the stupidest things hurt: like when Angela says to flatten your hands on the mat and spread your fingers out. I might as well be Wolverine and have metal shooting out of my skin. We do hip rotation lying flat on our backs and all I can hear is bone on bone. How can I focus on my breath when all I hear is grinding bone? I know that sounds terrible and possibly melodramatic, but that's what it is. And the same is true for the knee and the ankle. Those joints are like a load-bearing wall with termites. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I sink too far into the pain, I'll break a hip or a knee. I don't know how realistic that fear is. But it's there and I acknowledge it. I know yoga isn't supposed to hurt, but that's just part of my practice.
It was near the end of the practice tonight that I had an "emotional release" otherwise known as bursting into tears. Pain doesn't make me cry. Frustration does, but I wasn't frustrated. We were in a back bend and ever since the restorative class that focused on the spine, back bends push me to the point of tears. And it's uncontrollable. Just rolls out. Cecelia said working with the spine opens up many channels in the body. So mine must be the crying channel. I couldn't have picked Westerns? I love Westerns. Go ahead and make my day, little sister, but enough with this crying business.
Angela challenged us tonight that dreams are the subconscious mind's way of telling us more about ourselves. I'm screwed. Nightmares for three months. What exactly is my subconscious trying to tell me about ME? The idea of a dream journal scares the bejaysus right out of me. It might as well be a poisonous snake spitting flaming roaches at me. And I know I HAVE to keep one. Because I feel it. I feel drawn to it. I have to know. I have to jump in there and find out regardless of what I might find. I'm not sure I'm brave enough. But somehow I know that if I keep ignoring them, they'll keep coming. And they'll drive me insane. And insanity isn't an option. Crazy? Sure. Crazy is fine. I embrace crazy, but insane is just too far.
My hope is this: if I push through the pain hard enough and long enough, I won't break. I'll bend. I'll get to the other side of the pain and find healing. And next winter, I'll have some other superpower besides metal hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment