Trust the Process

"Sounds like you're in a rush."  What?  Me?  Wanting something now - immeditately - as fast as I can accomplish it?  Never!

This is what one of my teachers said to me a couple weeks ago after rambling on to him about how I wasn't sure if Bikram yoga was the right path for me, that I wanted more, that I felt I was missing something.  It hurt.  Even though I know, more than anyone else, that when I decide I want something - I want it immediately - it brought me crashing down to reality.

I was a little angry when I got home.  I felt as though what I wanted or what I dreamed had been stomped on by someone who I felt was a friend and who understood me and my yoga practice.  I felt that I had every right to feel the way I do - to question my yoga and my practice and the teachers and to want more from my yoga practice.  And I definitely do feel this way and have every right to question it!  But I had started getting myself worked up about it. 

Let me clarify myself a little bit.  You know when you first started your practice and you pick up your foot in Standing Head to Knee and the teacher says many times, "Lock your knee.  Before you kick, lock your knee.  Lock your knee!".  But you don't.  You see the other students around you who have been practicing for a while and they are kicking out and it looks so amazing and you want to be there - where they are!  But your standing leg is wobbling and your knee isn't locked and the teacher calls you out and tells you to bring your leg down and to lock your goddamn knee!  And then you feel a little sheepish or you get angry because you really just want to kick your leg out!

This is how I'm feeling about my yoga practice - I am trying to kick my leg forward before my knee is locked - I am trying to reach a point in my practice that I am not ready for yet.  Training for the competition gave me this glimpse at these amazing yogis who not only do amazing things with their bodies but also have this beautiful peace about them that I admire.  I practiced with them.  Got to know them a little bit.  Received little tidbits of their knowledge and I decided I want to be like them - I want to gain their knowledge - I want to follow my own yoga path.  And this is what I was trying to relate to my teacher - I want what you guys have or know or what I think that you know!  And he told me very promptly to lock my goddamn knee.

This has taken me a couple of weeks to process.  I've let it drift out of my mind.  I took an Iyengar yoga class.  I've practiced at home.  I bought a yoga anatomy book.  I'm still only practicing at the studio two or three days a week.

And then yesterday I was determined to go to class.  I just wanted to be in that room.  Through a blizzard, I drove and got into that hot room.  It was a tough class - I'm still a little sick.  But I knew what I'd come for when, lying in Savasana immediately after Cobra pose, the teacher says, "Trust the process."  I'm sure she said more insightful things after that but I had tuned out because I suddenly remembered how far I have come personally - how much I have grown and changed - both physically and mentally in 19 months of Bikram yoga practice.

I just need to keep trying to lock that knee and the rest will come.

Yoga Talk

One of the best things about practicing yoga with my Mum is the amazing conversations we have about the yoga.

Today we were talking about waking up in the morning for that 6am class.  It's gotten a lot harder these days, as the days get colder and darker.

"I guess getting up for yoga in the morning is like Balancing Stick.  You have to make up your mind that you're going to do it immediately."

Have I mentioned how proud I am?                        

Friday.  Day off work.  9:30 am class.

I walked into the warm studio at 9:20.  It was a blustery cold west coast kind of day - one where it is hard to get out of bed.  The studio was the perfect place to be.  It was packed.  I lay my mat down in the only space available, third row with maybe 10 cm of space on either side of me.  This was definitely not what I was used to.  I normally come to the early morning 6 am classes, where a busy class is at most 30 people.  I was looking forward to it - a challenge.  I knew it would be humid and hot but I was ready for it or so I thought.

The class started out strong.  I kept my focus until 2nd set of Triangle and then I faded.  My hips were killing me.  Sweat was running down in streams, pooling in my eyes.  My mouth tasted like pure garlic from the spinach salad I'd had for dinner the night before.  By the time we got to the floor I was done for and ecstatic for the 2 minutes of Savasana.  It ended way too quickly.

Wind Removing Pose.  I felt like a wet noodle.  I could not, under any circumstance, feel the pinching in my hips.  The pulling exhausted my arms and I craved the next Savasana.

Spine Strengthening Series was where it all went out the window.  Laying on my stomach brought back those feelings from the first class I'd ever taken 10 months ago.  I felt nauseous and dizzy.  My sweat tasted salty, most days it just tastes like water.  I started breathing through my mouth - I was gasping for air - it took every little bit of determination and discipline that I had to close my mouth and breathe deeply through my nose.

Turtle pose, which I normally adore, took every last bit of energy out of me.  Camel pose.  I got as far as coming up on my knees, then keeled forward thinking I was going to vomit on my towel.  Rabbit pose.  I made  a very half assed attempt and came out early both times.  I took a desperate break during Head to Knee with Stretching Pose - felt a little guilty while people around me were rounding their spines, stretching their arms - I honestly can't remember the last time I sat out a posture.  I barely had enough core strength to keep my back straight in Spine Twist and flopped down on my mat like a dead fish after the final breathing.

It had been months and months since I'd had a class like that.  I walked out of the heat and back into the the blustery wind and the rain.  I was shaky and weak but was so glad I'd made it through.