There are days when I walk to the top of my mat and I am so happy to be there. Ready for my teacher to call out, "Downward Facing Dog" or "Peaceful Warrior." Other days...the days I cry during Savasana, I am not ready to break out that "down dog" and my warrior feels anything BUT "peaceful."
I had one of those "crying during Savasana days" about a week ago. It was just a typical class. However, I had this feeling that maybe I should not go to that particular class that day (always trust that feeling by the way). But I went anyways because I never give in to uncomfortableness in my own body. The moment I walked into the studio, I felt this feeling that made me want to run away. At least three or four times, I contemplated picking up my mat and heading for the door. I did not, though. I stayed and I practiced. I ignored the uncomfortableness in the room. I ignored the sick feeling in my stomach. I ignored the hurt and disappointment that I was feeling. I practiced...I followed my breath...I went from pose to pose.
That day my mat was a beautiful battlefield. It was hard to practice that day. I do have an injury but physical pain can never match emotional pain. This particular day on my mat the battlefield was practicing in a room that once brought me such joy and refuge. Yet, this day, I found myself wanting to be rescued from the room. Rescued from the hurt and disappointment. I battled on my mat that day. I battled my broken heart, I battled my broken hamstring, I battled my disappointment, and I flowed from pose to pose. I stayed and my practice was strong. But at the end of my practice, I found myself silent and still: hamstring hurting so much I could barely breathe and my heart completely broken. So I did what any good yogi would do: I cried. Fortunately, crying during yoga looks a lot like sweating...thank God, right?
I realized that yoga makes me stronger. I accepted that this room that once brought me joy and refuge can also bring me sadness at times. If it wasn't for the sadness, maybe I would not be able to appreciate the joy. I am grateful for both experiences. I would not change anything. Life is as it should be for this moment. My mat will continue to be a beautiful battlefield. A place where I can battle my pain, frustration, and disappointment, as well as, a beautiful place where I can also celebrate joy. My body will heal and my heart will mend. I am grateful for my mat. I am grateful for the friend who reaches for my hand during Savasana. I am grateful for the room. I am grateful for my teachers who lead me through even the most difficult practices. The beautiful battles on my mat, the tears I cry in Savasana, the exhilarating walk out of the yoga studio...this is why I practice.
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