Thursday, 5 September 2013

What I think about when I do yoga

I think about a cycle of things.

It starts: "God this is hard I hate warming up". I think of all the primary series ahead of me and the poses seem to stretch out to all of eternity.

Then I remember the story of the monk who is disturbed by a giant spider each night when he tries to meditate. He was advised to draw a big circle on the spider's belly so they might identify it during day time. He wakes during the day with the circle drawn on his own belly.

Then I think: "God this is still hard could I just stop after the sun salutations?"

Then I start to feel good:
  1. This is just for me, not for anyone else. 
  2. I feel so good doing this rather than thinking I should do this. 
  3. It's good I'm no longer lying on a hospital bed recovering from a major surgery. It's good that I have the use of all my body parts with no aches and pains and no debilitating injuries. 
  4. I should do this more. 
Then I think of nothing at all. No niggling anxiety of what remains undone. No comparing myself to others. No fear of my own failure. 

Mostly just concentrating on how to use every part of my body optimally. To relish, or at least, endure, the burn and the tingle and the pain. 

Then it's all over and I'm absolutely ravenously happy.