I failed at yoga today.
It all started with an invitation to play with inversions. The posture cued was side crow, which even at my peak was never accessible.
But I did have a hankering for flying squirrel, or flying pigeon, or if you’re speaking Sanskrit these days: Eka Pada Galavasana.
I braced my hands on the sweaty mat. I squatted into figure four. And, whelp, that’s as far as I got because my legs were screaming TIGHT at me and this weird-ouch-in-my-arm-that’s-been-lingering-but-I-don’t-know-from-what yelled REMEMBER ME.
And immediately I felt that disappointment creeping in. You know the one. “Missing my glory days.” “Back in the day.” “I’m getting old and fat.” “I’m so out of shape.” “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”
Blah to the blahbabetiblah.
I’ve been feeling it a lot lately. Damn that stupid app Timehop that I loathe to love but love to hate. Just recently, a much slimmer self of mine appeared post-half-marathon race, but here I am today, and I can’t seem to run at all without my forty-year-old feet killing me.
And, so, you can see why I’ve failed at yoga today.
One of my favorite Scriptures that comes to mind on a wallow-day like today is:
I love it so much because it is my tendency (dare I say our tendencies) to dwell on the past, to get stuck in what used to be. But I don’t want to sink into that mudhole anymore.
I want to be here. Now. Present.
And that is why I failed at yoga.
Although, remembering this, coming back to this reflection, is really what it’s all about.
How can I be present, right now? How can I be my healthiest self, right now? How can I be grateful, right now?
That… that is the yoga.
lifeinthedport 