My yoga practice is getting into some uncomfortable places, deep nooks and crannies of my being. Sort of like an emotional excavation. Today at class, I had an experience that left me in tears a few times, dizzy and nauseated. But – and this is going to sound strange – not in bad ways. I knew I wasn’t sick, in the clinical sense. I went into class feeling somewhat emotionally shaken. The last few days have brought some bad news, on both a global and personal level: the Japan disaster, my (younger) brother hospitalized on his birthday for the ongoing heart condition he struggles with. News of a tragic murder in the DC area yoga community, where many people I love are. A friend and retreat alumna recently diagnosed with breast cancer.
We had a guest teacher from Germany today, and the asana wasn’t as intense as usual. In fact, I don’t think we did a single warrior pose. On another day, I might struggle with this and not like that we didn’t move as much as I (thought I ) wanted to. Today I did not. We did some pretty intense pranayama and massage work on our lymphatic system. I felt tears prick a few times during class, seemingly out of nowhere, but I didn’t let them come because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop. I fled home after class, although I was supposed to be having lunch with a friend. The moment I walked in the door, I cried for a good 10 minutes. Whew. All that from a yoga class!
I feel lighter, cleansed. The heaviness and sadness in my heart that accompanied me to class this morning has been lifted. I marvel at the many ways in which yoga allows me to serve (family, friends, my students), and serves me. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for its gifts. Namaste.