I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed,
for where I am closed
I am false
-Rainer Maria Rilke
At times in yoga, locked in with heightened attention and awareness of emotion in motion, we catch glimpses of our story in every breath in and breath out. Fully present and coming into perfect energetic alignment, the class seems easy, and in these moments of ease we find the inner therapy of asana.
A trained response to stress – when we move into ease – is built by years of practice, gallons of sweat, hours of driving time, bundles of cash, hours of study and stillness, and attention to the inner dialogue between mind/body/spirit, and the application of hatha (force).
Seldom does the 26+2 series of 90 minutes in 105 degrees and 45% humidity seem easy, but recently if your leader takes you through the series in a systematic and artistic way and with a body/mind/spirit presentation that is incisive, insightful, and inspirational, it can become easy in time.
You will learn to be at ease in stress, and you will be reminded that “Breath is your guru.” This is a frequent statement by my teacher and he’s right. Thinking of this opens a fresh new way of viewing yoga, what I’ve called, a breathcentric practice, one animated by hatha. Hatha yoga is the application of stress and ease balanced and then applied in every posture; it’s discovered in contraction and expansion, ease and tension, puraka and rechaka, strength and flexibility, the hard and soft. Hatha moves at the cosmic level too: the sun and moon, fire and water, heat and cold, and the spiritual imprints behind the energy of Earth by night and day, tide-shift, sleep, and work. Hatha in yoga can never be an abusive force, but one tempered by balance and awareness.
One of my mentor professors in graduate school once asked us to think about what was good enough in our lives; he said if we could name a few things, we were lucky. I thought my upbringing and parents were good enough, my high school was good enough, and my job was good enough. None of it was perfect, but most of it was good enough. It’s wise to recognize that and not ask for perfection from ourselves or anyone. Because there were things in my youth that were good enough, I had a rooted center from which I took the courage to travel far, and the confidence to exert my will in the world to the degree in which I could.
The writing I do on yoga can be construed as my “yes” to life, and my recognition that yoga is an important ingredient to the story of my good enough existence. Oh, it’s not been easy – is it ever? But it’s always been a deep pool of the doable. Dipping into the pool of the doable, my story unfolds in mostly fulfilling ways; the threads of which are recorded in portions written and unwritten. It doesn’t mean everything I write or do is not perfectly honest. None of it is without flaws, and far from perfect. Some things could be better, of course, but that is life. And some days, like today in yoga, it’s nearly perfect. I’ll take it.
Motorcycling is like that too; most of the time it’s good enough, and sometimes damn near perfect. I’ve been on long rides solo and in group rides. It’s an incredibly stimulating way to see the world, see others, and see ourselves. Part of the excitement in motorcycling is the thrill (and danger) of riding with others in close formation.
Ya better have your shit together – they say – which requires heightened vigilance and the ability to be at ease in stress – the same as yoga.
Bikers in a group adjust every moment to road hazards, pavement conditions, and changing speeds of other bikers, cars, and trucks that change lanes or make sudden moves. And at the end of a long group ride, great relief, and thankfulness for another day without incident is front and center on my mind, and my electric body is fully alive with the currents of life. That’s why I’ll bump a fist and joyfully, triumphantly, thankfully exclaim fuck-yea! Great ride!
It was like that recently, at the end of yoga class, on an unremarkable Tuesday when my mantra took me to that same fuck yea place where the pulse of strong currents had me exclaiming in relief and thankfulness. You probably know what I said . . . to myself. It’s my mantra to overcoming challenges – a celebration of navigating life’s turbulent waters – and a bold exclamation for facing the gravitas of serious business in this competitive world. It’s a “barbaric yawp,” if you please.
If you don’t know what it feels like to punch a biker’s fist in a fleeting moment of great relief or relax deeply and in full body ease into savasana pose at the end of a yoga class, that’s okay.
But maybe you can empathize with my mantra. Every now and then it’s just the right thing.
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