07/09/2020
Graced with an hour or more of almost uninterrupted practice time and space this morning. The more I practice at home, outside of teaching or attending a class, the more I realized how fast I was in my teachings.
Slow compared to many other classes, but for the needs of various well worn, worn out and damaged bodies too fast.
And did I emphasise enough the need for home practice?
Did I ignite enough enthusiasm and confidence to do the smallest and simplest things in one's own time and space so the gratitude and love of one's own body could flare into reality. Appreciation for one's own strengths, one's own heart connection, one's own reality and sense of grounded connectedness with the life force in this unique and wonderful human being body which has been gifted to you this lifetime.
Myself, I took for granted my physical body would stay strongish and bendy enough to do what I did every day, and be able to turn up the reach and resilience at times of harvest* and hell, furniture moving and friction.
Despite preferring to watch NCIS to actually doing much physical practice. Believing that it was enough to be applying the philosophy and attitudinal practices of yoga teachings to the slings and arrows of misfortune which seemed to comprise the harvest of my intuition driven and largely unconscious decisions and responses to opportunities as they arose.
* A word about harvest, coming after some hours of literally harvesting a bumper crop of damsons, with much time for reflection and watching the mind on the subject of family patterns, history and habits and the a-ha moment of recognising that though we may have the perception and insight to acknowledge our inner callings, intuitive guidance and know something is up, our ability to interpret this may distort the harvest we ultimately reap from our actions. Perception and interpretation. Sowing and reaping.
For the years I cared for mum, I valued my privacy and wanted uninterrupted space to do my practice, which when the heat is on it seems I do diligently. My crankiness if I didn't do several rounds of surya namaskar and sit for the mantra practice was likely to cause a great deal of harm, so the practice was done.
Today, caring for someone else's mum, I find I can stop the practice, get up move the laundry, make space for this mum to sit a few feet from me as I do my stuff on the mat. She dozes, chats, dozes some more, asks what's for supper, we agree to investigate the freezer together in a bit, and I rest in fascia releasing shapes. Taking my time, listening to my body. Appreciating the resilience, the weakness, the returning strength and dexterity.
A couple of weeks ago my gimpy left arm made surya namaskar impossible. I still can't swing my right leg through as far as it used to go, but it's getting there.
The love of my history and traditional lineage of teaching brightens my practice from PMA 1 through to a standing balance. Surprise when even the left leg will stay put, sole of foot pressed to the inside of my right thigh instead of sliding down within a second of elevation.
The body doesn't forget and the consistent practice of yantra drawing and painting these past weeks, meditation with Lee Harris and Deepak Chopra on top of the good intentions during many NCIS episodes and 13 series has reshaped the mind to all sorts of infinite possibilites.
