Thursday, December 12, 2019
Breathing into the Heart
4:45am wake up alarm, carefully pushing my body up, taking care to avoid any pressure on my back but I still wince as the pain of moving, the pain of my back and hamstrings reaches my sleepy brain. It’s been many hard weeks of training
My eyes are the last part of my body to wake up and I cover them as I enter the bathroom, switching on the light, draping my oversized blue bathrobe over my shirt with one hand, other hand still protecting my eyes. Outside, there’s a new blanket of snow on the ground and the cold seems to seep through the windows and walls. The moon sits above the mountains, a glow around it.
It’s 5:30am, I need at least 15 minutes to drive through the snow to yoga, defrost blasting, Khalid in the background:
“The days get brighter when you're here
So I gotta keep you near
Goin' crazy and I just can't get you outta my head”
Thinking about you and rereading your text. You were up at 4am this morning, “Sorry for not saying goodnight.” But I know how tired you must be from a stressful week.
It’s 6am and it’s time for an hour of hot vinyasa yoga flow class. My yoga mat curls up at the end, still frozen from being left in the car overnight. Underneath me it feels cold, like the ground beneath the snow. Above me the heat roars from vents. There are just four of us in class and at 6am class it’s just the most committed yogis. “Nice job you all have the bind” the teacher says approvingly while we are in extended side angle. Beginners don’t come at 6am
Just as it is in life, some poses are easy, and some are hard. Some come naturally, some take lots of work. I love yoga because I can make these comparisons to life all day. This pose is easy for me, even with a full arm bind, but breathing through the flow takes practice. Whenever it gets hard, I struggle and I find myself holding my breath. “Huuuuuuuh” as I let my breath go, remembering again to be here, now. Breathing in, again alive in the moment
I open my chest, my heart, with the arm bind in Utthita Parsvakonasana and my back becomes a stream of sweat as if flowing from my heart. The heat is roaring, and sweat becomes a river, drip drip drip on my yoga towel, my chest to the sky