Not (and) praticing

This will blow your mind.

I feel better when I do yoga, move and work out, than when I don’t. I realize that hearing this from a yogi is completely and utterly shocking.

(Sarcastic yogis have more fun.)

For the umpteenth time in my 36 years, I have again rediscovered how much better I feel when I get into my body and move. When the clock went off at 5:15am (I know, right?!), it was the first time in weeks that I didn’t roll over and say, “Not today. I need to sleep.”

The thing is…for a while, I just needed rest. I needed to not:  do, try, go, care.

I needed to:  let it go, wallow, indulge, sit, be.  So for almost two weeks I gave up regular trikonasanas and chuttarungas for wine, munchies and sleepin’ in.

Now, I don’t recommend this for everyone all the time. And it's not like I became a gluttonous hermit or something. But after thirteen years of practicing yoga, I’ve learned that I sometimes skimp on my regular physical practice. (Gasp, what?!? Yes.) I’ve also learned that I always return (Phew!). (Hint: This cycle is part of the practice).

It took many years of practice to gain the confidence I needed to let this flow happen organically. Letting go of judgments and “shoulds” has been quite a trying learning process. But I’ve come to find that though asana, meditation and yoga nidra is almost always restorative, and though “clean” eating and ginger teas are delicious, sometimes you just need beer, nachos and a rom-com (or several of each, for several days). Sometimes that's just where you are. And that’s OK.

Quick disclaimer: my perspective includes several important personal facts: 1) I’ve never struggled with alcohol or substance addictions (and trust me, by now, I would know).  2) I have a long history of disordered eating and body dysmorphia, but have been ED free for three years now. 3) I’ve practiced yoga (not just asana, but yoga) regularly for thirteen years.  4) I’m spiritually rich, emotionally sound, and wholeheartedly human. 5) I own my shit, even when it really, totally and completely sucks. 6) For me, falling apart is often necessary par for the course to get myself back together (see my last post, "A Gifted Perspective").

The last few weeks were emotionally draining. I responded by painting, drinking wine, witnessing my thoughts, meditating, laughing, sitting around a fire, practicing gentle postures and watching TV. I took walks and cried a lot. I talked to friends, recorded my dreams, skipped yoga class, ate crappy, missed the gym and drank more. I saw a movie. I pondered my life’s calling(s). I was fine with all of these things.

My practice has taught me that I still practice even when I don’t. These phases of indulgence and escape—they come—and they pass—regardless of whether we beat ourselves up or not. It’s a very human thing—as is yoga. It’s taken me far too many years to learn and accept this. During the last two weeks, I made very conscious choices about how I spent my time, even when I was on beer number four. I stayed present and honest (albeit tipsy). I just didn’t want to care. And I understand now that I deserve to not care sometimes. So I let myself have it. (It was awesome.) 

Another element to this (see disclaimer above) is that I still feel an inordinate sense of empowerment through choosing junk food over salad. Going on three years of being ED free, I'm no longer scared of a binge fest or follow-up-starvation-day after a dinner of nachos, jalapeno poppers and beer. Instead, I now enjoy it and move on. I get off on not beating myself up about food and feeling genuinely appreciative of my body's curves and softness. Odd as it may seem, an integral part of my healing has come from taking time off from the gym and eating fried foods.

Life, health and yoga do not flourish from attachments to (our own made up) absolutes. I've resigned my own absolutes around what constitutes healthy relaxation, diets and yoga practices in favor of self-reflection and self-acceptance. In short, I work to take ego out of the equation and prioritize presence. It’s not an easy practice. It takes patience, trust, trial and error, and a willingness to both fail and succeed. It's ongoing. But it helps to create a lifetime practice of being where we are. And isn't that the point? 

I spent years feeling that I couldn’t be taken seriously as a yogi without practicing asana every day. But years of trying led me to realize that I usually don’t make seven days per week—though I often make most. Even during longer stints “off,” I’ve come to know that I always come back. And that knowing allowed me to get through the last few weeks with love and kindness towards myself. Six years ago, an “off” week would have induced feelings of extreme judgment and shame. Over yoga. In what world does that make sense?

Sometimes, we need days off. Everything in moderation. During the past two weeks, I never once felt as if I’d let myself or my yoga go. I didn’t hate my body or myself. I didn’t always feel great—but I didn’t tailspin into loathing and doubt. I was tired and wanted an escape. So I rested and took one.

And as it turns out—rest led me to feeling rested (what a concept!)—and once again I’m back into my practice. On the whole, more regular physical practices make me feel better in body and spirit than days off, and I prefer this side of the coin to the other. But. I took an important reset that I also needed. As teachers, we often tell students to not force postures, and it's important to remember that "off the mat" as well. So last week, when I started feeling yucky about all those days off, I waited with open arms for that moment to arrive when my body and energy would say, “it’s time!” ... and that moment came. I listened, and shortly after got back to a stronger asana practice and hit the gym. Today it feels great. But I didn’t have to endure my own wrath to get here. It wasn't based in ego. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: negative energy cannot lead to positive change. So here I am. Positively and presently, me.