"It's not about what it looks like..."

Mar 11, 2008

I have practiced yoga for years, and teach, as well. Every so often, I find myself reminded this is precisely what yoga is: a practice.

In my personal yoga, the desire is less about getting the outer, visible part right, and more about getting the inner, hidden part right. It's not about what it looks like... it's about how it feels.

Herein lies more evidence the yoga mat is a microcosm.

In yoga (as in life), we are presented with choices.

So often we choose the struggle; to achieve and maintain an outward appearance we know inwardly to be false. We twist ourselves into gnarled and angry lumps, crumple our own innards like discarded paper bags, lay waste our ability to draw new breath.

Humans can, and will, assault the self to the point of capsize. I admit I have, in yoga and in life.

So why do we push ourselves to that place? Maybe we simply don't know, or don't want to know, any better. Maybe we don't feel worthy of benefit without truly suffering first. Maybe we don't recognize our place in our own life unless the view from there is particularly crazy. Or maybe it's something else entirely. But, in the end, what we do have control over must boil down to a matter of choice, doesn't it?

So we come to a question of focus: Am I focused on what all this looks like? Or how it feels?

Interestingly enough, we seem to find it easier to focus on the exterior (regardless such limelight begets self-flagellation). I wonder why this is? Do you think it might be because, as it pertains to others, we can only observe the exterior? Are we always looking to follow? Afraid to lead or don't know how?

And so often we are out of touch with what our bodies, our minds, our hearts feel anyway. If we are not in a place to receive their response, how can we ever hope to benefit from their wisdom when we proffer of them our weighty question: "How does this feel?"

...

Perhaps it all takes practice, every bit of it. Maybe your practice is yoga, as is mine. Maybe it's your journaling, your art, your music, your sport.... Maybe you have one practice or several. (I hope you do.)

And within the principality of a practice, we can all relate, for no matter the discipline, the steps of a practice, at its essence, are the same:

1. Ask your body, your mind, your heart, "How does this feel?"

2. Listen for (and to) the response.

3. Make adjustments.

4. Repeat.

...


Be well.