No, I didn't die. I didn't quit Yoga, either. So why did I disappear for a month? Simple. I had to just 'be'. Sometimes, life gets hairy and you need to press on and work through it and NOT write about it. Nothing groundbreaking happened. I merely put distance in time between me and a month ago. That's one reason. The other reason is that I got a case of the Leo-lazies. The same Lionness within that tries to manage the jungle, the same one with the drive to conquer and devour, the same one with boundless energy who hates wasting time needed a break. So, I sat back on my haunches for a while and just rested. Only in the last week did I rest my body because of a little annoyance called a cold. But the greater rest was for my brain. The dreams have calmed themselves, meaning my subconscious has moved to a place of acceptance and I've been able to sleep. I've watched cartoons and played basketball and had dance parties with the three year old light of my life. I've petted my dogs and snuggled with my cats.
And I went to a Flogging Molly concert with my two dear Kathleens. My biggest fear is going insane. I'm not afraid to throw that out there. It used to be losing people. But I've realized that's inevitable and out of my control. So, it fell from its rank as number one fear. I can control my own sanity. I can control what I let have an effect on my sanity. But I am still my worst enemy and greatest defender. I say all of this because Flogging Molly has a song called, "If I Ever Leave This World Alive". In it are the lyrics, "So in a word don't shed a tear; I'll be here when it all gets weird." That has been mine and Katie's promise to each other since we first became Flogging Molly obsessed. It's a song of friendship. It's a promise that she has kept time and time again with her steady presence and support. It's been a really hard 5 months and I've come as close to insanity as I ever hope to come, but I don't know that. We never know the depths we'll encounter. So, as we're screaming out the lyrics to this song in the midst of hundreds of other bouncing fans, Katie elbowed me. And sang, "So when in doubt, just call my name; just before you go insane". I'm a talker. That's obvious. I came out of the womb talking and I'll go to the grave talking. But some people say more with an elbow than we talkers could ever find the words for.
So, that's the life part of this blog. Now, for the Yoga part. I missed a week...one little week. I hated to do it but I was sick and couldn't breathe. I did what I never do and nursed myself until I got better. In that week, my left side completely locked up. My neck froze. Monday, I was blind most of the morning because everything was so pinched. So I splurged even more and sought out a lovely massage therapist at Fuller School. And she reminded my neck it was supposed to move in several directions, not just one. She was convinced that my week off the Yoga mat was no doubt the main reason that my body decided it was Fort Knox. Dang it.
I returned to Yoga Tuesday night, to an overly obviously painful Bliss class. I discovered I can no longer sustain happy baby pose. My left hip will not move the way it did two weeks ago. Amazing. My muscles trembled, refused to stretch and fought me every breath of the way. I should probably be discouraged that one week away can make this much difference. In some ways, it felt like a starting over. But I'm Irish. And the harder something fights against me, the harder I fight back. And in this case, I'm fighting myself. I'm fighting the part of me that wants to do what that doctor said all those years ago and 'accept that there are certain things that I can't do anymore'. That option is always in my head. Sometimes, I would like to say, "You see, I can't do that because I have this disease." That's one part of me. But the other part --the rolling fields of green and stone fences part-- champions emphatically that I have the disease. IT DOES NOT HAVE ME. This is a battle that is daily waged. And most days the fighting me emerges victorious. The days it doesn't are bleak but they can only last 24 hours (roughly since the earth's axis has apparently shifted and we have a millisecond less daylight each day thanks to recent earthquakes.) But the sun always rises again and so do I.
I tried Angela's Flow class last night for the first time. "If you can handle Diane's Monday night class, you can handle mine," that's what she said. So I puffed up my chest and I said, "I can do it." Did I forget that Diane's Monday night class kicks my butt? Sure, I make it to the end. But I make it in a sling surrounded by a puddle of sweat. What PART of me thought I could handle a full-on flow class? Especially the second day back after really 10 days gone. (I'm making this sound better for myself now so I seem less pathetic. But we all know...) I should've seen it as an omen when Angela came over to my mat before class began as I sat calmly reading a book and warned me that this wasn't a multi-level class. It was a flow class. Yes, the same Angela from the beginning of the paragraph. So, then, I'm thinking, 'shite...I'm here now. It's not like I can leave.' Somehow humility always manages to rear its ugly little sustaining head. Yes, sometimes you have to be taken down a couple of notches but it was nothing short of pride that kept me on that mat. Fast forward 30 minutes into class. I'm hanging in there (literally), making imperfection look like an art form. I'm in downward facing dog (the best chance you have to throw up in a yoga class). Angela sits next to me and I'm thinking, 'I'm about to get called out here and she's doing it quietly so it must be really bad.' She says, 'Do you know that when you're in upward facing dog, your knees are supposed to be up off the mat?' Noooooooooooo. Hopefully, she wasn't thinking...look at that lazy arse with her knees on the mat...and gave me the benefit of the doubt that I just didn't know what I was doing. Because later in the class when my knees were on the mat, it was out of general necessity and not due to lack of knowledge.
Last night was really a plank class disguised as a flow class. Plank and I are not friends. We don't go to the same parties, drink the same cocktails, read the same books. No, normally we're just aware of each other's annoying presence in the room. But last night I got to know plank and all of its cousins on a deeply spiritual level: regular plank, one-legged plank, side plank, backwards plank; walk the dang plank. Really. Really? And not once, either. Not let's-try-this-and-see-how-it-works-out-for-you. NO. Like six times. I literally had to wipe the sweat from my face in order to see. And that's only part of it...throw in about 24 lunges or so and some warriors and a tree and an arm balance (which I opted out of) and we'll call it a night. Right? Wrong. Handstand. Headstand. Can't stand.
I walked in stiff. Long winter (real winter with actual sustained cold temperatures) = unhappy, arthritic joints. I left a Jello Jiggler. I left soggy. The left half of my body went numb during the night. If you look up the word 'sore' on dictionary.com today, you'll see they have my picture posted. But guess what? I did it. And I lived to tell about it. And it was awesome. And I can't wait to do it again. I enjoyed it so much, I'm bringing Katie next week. Last night was absolute, concrete proof that Yoga is what is right for my life. This path is the right one for all my bodies: the mental, physical and spiritual varieties. And as Angela says, one I cannot stray far from. That much is obvious. So, I must practice on in search of a sound body and a still mind. A still mind is a sane mind. And as I press forward, I'll do so with a thankful heart for those little 'call-outs' that strengthen me, those kicks in the butt that encourage me and especially the elbows to the side...that sustain me.
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