After a month’s hiatus I went back to yoga tonight. March was a busy month for me–my Mondays were otherwise occupied. There was the Pogues show at the 9:30 club, my trip to the desert, a migraine and then the project deadline I needed to crunch on because I couldn’t sit still all day. But today I was back.
As I headed down in the elevator in my workout clothes, a colleague looked at me with admiration. “Going to yoga?” she asked. “Yeah” I said in a voice that was weak and less than enthusiastic. She looked at me quizzically. So I explained. Four week not on the mat, my butt will be so beat, its going to hurt, I just got to slog through the first class back blah blah blah. “But just think,” she said trying her best to encourage me “How virtuous you will feel when you are done!”
I do a lot that I don’t want to do for the virtuous feeling I will get when I am done. I was raised to be a results oriented girl. And its true, all too often I catch myself being caught in the middle of doing something to get to the other side. Slog through the day to get to the ending where you get to hug your boy. Get the laundry done so you can look fabulous and clean. Eat the healthy vegetables to get to the dessert. Its a lot of work this passing through.
On the mat, my butt did get kicked. Big time. I feel like every week I don’t do yoga sets me back two or three weeks. My body complained, ached, wobbled and gave up. I tried desperately to stay in the moment the now when I felt miserable instead of the time in the distant future 30 minutes hence when I would feel virtuous. I watch myself feel uncomfortable and tried to just be aware and present to all that was coming up for me. And a lot of it was about wanting to hit the fast forward button.
I am that girl who when the book gets too suspenseful sneaks ahead to the last page–just to see. I am the one who can never wait to hear the ending to a story. When my mother in law and I used to watch novelas I would get obsessed, dying to know what will happen tomorrow or the next day. If I was watching one in the US that she had already seen in Mexico I would call her and beg her to tell me the ending. Yesterday I watched the Caps game that I had taped from the night before (For all you non-hockey fans–It is a Cinderella story right out of Hollywood. It makes this girl sigh and swoon…) I had to force myself NOT to fast forward to the final score. I felt I would be able to enjoy the game more if I just knew how it ended. But I knew that wasn’t true, really. I asked Max to hide the remote.
There are lots of little adventures percolating in my life. Small things–not big ones. But I am wondering–Where will they take me? I am curious. I am excited. Thankfully I am not anxious or worried. I know it will turn out exactly as it should but I want to know–HOW? I want to wrap my arms around that glorious conclusion so I can just look forward to it. Its a joyous feeling of not being able to wait until Christmas morning, I wish there was a crystal ball I could peer into to see how I will be surprised. I just can’t wait.
But wait I must. And like yoga tonight–its causing a bit of ummm….therapeutic irritation. As I play out all the scenarios in my place I am missing that sweet feeling of being simply somewhere between here and there. And someday, when its all said and done, I will wonder what it was like to be here. And the only thing I will have to say for myself is that I should have paid better attention.
So as I move into “down dog” for what seems like the 100th time, my calves and hamstrings on fire, I practice staying here. Not moving into the next phase. Not rushing ahead to find out the ending, but breathing in and letting the story unfold, slowly. At an excruciatingly slow pace.