Unbalanced at Yoga

The universe has been pointing me to these concepts lately. The Duality of Life and Death. Opposition in All Things. Yin and Yang. Concepts I've started to understand, that have impacted my worldview.

As I sit down to write this, I realize that today marks the Equinox, first day of spring. When light and darkness are in equal measure. To me, it's an acknowledgment and emphasis. This lesson matters. Learn it, share it.

So I will...

There's a yoga class on Tuesday nights at the gym my husband has a membership to. So I signed up.

I scan his the tag at the door to unlock it, and sign my name on the attendance sheet. There's usually a smiling face at the counter, with which I make brief eye contact and exchange pleasantries.

I scurry to the women's room. I'm 30 minutes early so I can have some time in the Sauna by myself. It's a weird time of night so I'm usually alone. I turn the dial on the outside of the sauna as high as it will go but leave the light switch turned to off. I open the door and the loud creaking of the cedar planks below my feet emphasize each step with a squeal. I make my way to my usual spot in the upper right hand corner and ease myself down onto the planks.

It's quiet and intentional me time. I get to focus on breathing in and out and releasing tension from my body. I get to sweat. To warm my bones. To think of anything I want. To not think at all.

When people begin to join me and cold air starts rushing in, I know that the 5:30 HIIT class has ended, and it's time to find a spot on the floor. I squeeze around sweaty bodies. They smile and nod at my red face, grateful for the seat I left open in the top corner.

I retrieve my shoes and my glasses and my wallet and my phone and my keys and my airpods and my water and my sweatshirt and my yoga mat from one of the unlocked lockers, beneath the sign "We are not responsible for stolen property. Secure your belongings". With arms full of stuff (no bag), I find a comfortable spot in the room to throw it down. I used to sit in the corner near the back. Now I go wherever I want. I'm a regular now, and don't fear the movements so much, or the judgement.

I smile at the instructor. She knows my soul, I think. And though we never talk other than the "have a great night" and "thank you, I needed this", I like her a lot. She has the kind of voice that carries emotion without having to change her pitch and intonation. It's soothing.

We start the familiar movements and my eyes are trained on the floor in front of me, at the windows or mirrors. I can recognize the names of the movements and rarely need to up or strain my neck to see if I'm with the class. My practice is more intuitive now. I follow at my pace, my comfortability, my tolerance. It truly is me time.

Movement.

"When you're ready, find Shavasana". I roll onto my back, knees propped slightly and hands in whatever position feels 'right'. There I lay, a dead fish. I loved this part so much. Though, sometimes I felt like it lasts too long. Why waste valuable class time with so much rest?

"Take a moment to rest in stillness. To balance out all the movement we did today".

I heard those words on an exhale. When I inhale, my eyes prick with tears. I close them.

Why is it so hard to rest? When stillness is as essential as movement? Without rest, we are unbalanced.

I let myself really rest this time. I didn't think about the drive home. I didn't squint my eyes to glance at the clock. I didn't scrunch my toes. I the floor support all my weight and focused on breathing.

Stillness.

Our instructor turned down the lights and moved quietly around the room, to anoint the foreheads of her patrons with lavender oil, if palms were facing upwards (our signal & consent). Mine always are.

When she asks us to bring our attention back to our bodies and breaths, the small movements seem bigger than usual. I flex my fingers. Toes. Glide my arms above my head then back down, like a snow angel. I roll to a side and push myself into a seated position, eyes still closed. We take our final breaths, and close with a heartfelt "namaste".

Balance.

I started incorporating this into my life.

On days when the classroom is loud and the children are exceptionally unruly, I find ways to foster peace. I turn off lights, I turn on softer music. At home, I put the kettle on and light a candle. I read my favorite, comforting books - not self help, never self-help on these days. Memoirs and fantasy and romance. I drink warm drinks, let my eyes nod closed, and take extra care preping breakfast and laying out my clothes.

Chaos. Peace. Balance.

On days when my mind is overwhelmed with grief, sorrow or fear, I find ways to really connect with God. I go down to the puget sound and listen to the waves, I write letters to my loved ones, I check in with my family on facetime or voice memo, I play hymns on the piano, I take long forest walks with my fur babies, I pray.

Fear. Faith. Balance.

When I'm tense with pent up anxiety or energy from work, I find ways to metabolize my stress. I ride my bike, I write in my journal, I run or exercize, I sleep.

Internalize. Process. Balance.

Living life trying to balance out my days doesn't always work, but it often does. As I live more intuitively, I find I'm much better at identifying what I need.

I didn't leave the house much the last few years. Blame my handsome husband or my cozy little house. Blame my hobbies. Blame social anxiety, depression, or introversion.

A few weekend excursions with my girls, and a book club later, I've recognized a desire for the companionship of women. I never realized until recently how important it is to just get together with the girls. To talk books, hobbies, teenage crushes and life. To cry and be a shoulder for someone else. I need the contrast, the companionship and connection.

Masculine. Feminine. Balance.

What do you think about all this? Does it ring true?

I'm going to practice it for a while, and I'll let you know what else I learn. What else I'm taught. I have a feeling I've only scratched the surface.

xo Brooklyn