16 February, 2015

Walking on the ceiling

Today was vinyasa with Tara.

When I was younger and I would go running or do intense workouts at the gym, I would often lie on the floor after the workout and stare blankly at the ceiling, in a state of euphoria from the exercise. At the gym I attended at the university, the ceiling was very high. It was easily 40 feet, perhaps even 60 feet from the floor. In that euphoric state, it was not unusual for me to imagine that I was walking on the ceiling, and the the world was upside-down. Alternatively, I might have imagined that the world was upside-down, but I was hanging by my back from the floor, which was now the ceiling. It was interesting to try to induce the psychological sense of "fear of heights" in that position.

Today, at the end of Tara's class, I found myself imagining walking on the billowy looking ceiling of the room. I'd come into class fairly agitated. I felt sad. She spoke about some things that were happening for her, in terms of experiencing stress or contraction in a situation, and how that situation becomes much bigger than it actually is. And I could totally relate to that. I don't know why I feel the sadness lately. It's not foreign to me. It's been off and on in my life for as long as I can remember. And it's not always brought on by tangible stimuli or events that I can identify. Right now, all is well. But I have gone through periods of existential angst, and periods of undefined sadness. The good news is that they're brief, and they tend to be interspersed with periods of hours or days where I am in a perfectly good state of mind. Case in point: I felt considerably better after this yoga class than I had felt before it.

I don't know any magic trick to not feel these feelings. Some people have told me "You want to feel that way." Is that true? Do I want it? I can't definitively say that I don't, but why would I? It may be true that I am compelled to go there.

I think I have a hard time just being where I am.

The yoga mat is a good place to work on that.

Tree was only a little better today than it was yesterday. And I was only a little less irritated with it. And I recognize that there's an opportunity to let go. Balance poses are a place where it's more difficult to appear composed. In any pose where you've got two feet on the ground, there's always a modification that can be done to achieve stability. Well, truth is, the same can be said for the balance poses. But for some reason, I must be less willing to take those modifications. What does that say? It would be kind of funny to go down the avenue that I don't believe, that of astrology, and say that because I am a Libra, balance is especially a point of pride for me, and that I have high standards.

But let's not go down the occult avenues just yet. Or else I may find myself walking on the ceiling.

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