To be perfectly honest, last month’s yoga weekend knocked me for a loop. Something happened during our meditation practice and I felt a huge opening, and then a cave in. It was a really bittersweet, brokenness and compassion that I haven’t figured out yet.
Instead of going deeper into that moment, into that emotion, I’ve been avoiding it. Since then, I’ve been feeling soft, quiet and unsure.
During this morning’s practice I had the intention of opening my heart, towards our country and our new President and his family in particular. But when I attempted to turn that compassion and confidence inward, or just bring it closer to home, I froze. My mind went somewhere else completely, and I abandoned the mat for chores and to-do lists.
Even as I write this, I feel guilty – as if I’ve failed myself or my commitment to the practice. Part of me knows this is all part of the practice, even the aversion. It’s a much less comfortable place to be than that vibrational bliss that sometimes comes with practice. But that’s part of it too, I suppose.
I think all I can expect from myself is to keep on coming back to the practice – even if I only stay on the mat for 20 minutes at a time. Right? At least, that’s what I would tell someone else if they were going through something similar. I’d say: They call it a practice for a reason.