31 August, 2013

Garbage in, garbage out... garbage gone

Today was Power Vinyasa with Bill MacDonald at Open Doors.

I should not have taken this class today. There are so many reasons, but I didn't listen to them. I took a class last night, and this was a morning class today. I flew yesterday, which always messes me up a bit. I didn't sleep well. The time zone difference made a 10am class feel like a 7am class. My body was absolutely killing and I was not sure how I was going to do forward folds. Each of those reasons by itself would be enough to justify taking a day off, or at least going to yoga later in the day.

But I went to the class. I told myself I would try to take it easy, but what that bought me was a feeling of heaviness and a dwelling in negative thoughts. I spent the class alternating between hating my body for aching, berating my mind for the stuck thoughts plaguing me today, and just trying to get through it.

It's hard going from a day like yesterday where everything just felt like it was in sync, to a completely disjointed today. I want there to be some kind of continuity. I want to hold on to the good feelings and never have the bad ones. And then, I am forced to ask myself if there's anything good or bad but that thinking makes it so. It's really no different from the outside observer. I sit here writing. With my coffee. My laptop. And I could be in bliss, or I could be in misery. I could be in love, or I could be in heartbreak. I could be mourning the loss of a friend, or getting ready to celebrate their birthday party later today. From the outside, it's all the same. And from the inside, largely so. The same heartbeat. The same clothes. The same face. The breath still comes and goes. The only difference is that thing in the skull that decides what is good and what is bad about otherwise mundane strings of events.

Why do we choose to indulge in suffering?

And then, I ask, did I come to this class today to not let myself off the hook when I really needed a break? Or did I come because I really wanted to show up for Bill MacDonald's class? And if it's the latter, can I just be okay with it. Just like a really tough Chair pose that makes the legs burn. You forward fold, and it's over. Gone. Like it never happened. And sometimes, an entire class is just like that. But now it's over, gone, like it never happened. Along with all of the thoughts and judgments about myself and the world that rode along with it.

It's a little weird how smiling and crying both make us feel better...

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