It's hard for me to get into some poses. It's hard for me to hold some poses. It's hard to remember to breathe. It's hard to get down. And it's hard to stand back up. At each class, I find myself going through a tragicomedy of emotions, starting with the thrill to being ready to go again, tthe surprise at how unflexible I became overnight, the trembling and hard breathing and onslaught of doubt (occasionally interrupted by looking at people around me step wider, bend lowerand reach higher), the reprimand not to compare myself to others, the second wave of doubt about becoming a teacher, and then -- usually in the middle of Corpse Pose -- a slow chime of joy that's so exquisite at times that it's all I can do not to cry on my mat.
I realize too how choking and hot this doubt can be -- the same kind of doubt that has plagued many students I've worked with over the years about their desire to write and call themselves writers. While tabletop (a pose) and forward bends might come easy to some (bu
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I tell myself this while holding downward dog (a supposed rest pose that's always been more like running a marathon for me). I also tell myself that like any good practice, I'm just showing up, trying to cultivate curiosity and drop judgment, and find greater compassion for living in a body, this body, forward-bended or stretched out, upside down or back on its feet.
Pictures: Me doing Downward Dog-With-Photography-Variation; other -- someone on the internet I found doing Downward Dog.
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