Today, in yoga class I endeavoured whole-heartedly to stay present. To “show up for myself” however I showed up. My yoga teacher encourages us to stay true to our innate sense of what we need. It’s a yin class, extremely slow and meditative with no invitations to do anything strenuous. It’s about presence more than anything. In simple terms, saying yes to ourselves even if that yes is to a no, I don’t want to.
Of course, I drifted off into imagining cool prompts for my writing workshops, what Spain will be like, a scene for my novel, and such, but I was pretty good at calling myself back to the breath, the bodily sensations, the awareness of the floor supporting me and all that.
Afterward, I had two massage treatments booked in town, so I grabbed something to eat and got to the studio, turned on the heat, put on the music, and dropped some Joy essential oil into the diffuser. And my client didn’t show up. She thought it was next week. Okay, so I’ll just go get some gas and pick up some vegetables. I’m good. I got this. I’m present.
I’m a bit rushed but I manage to get what I need, feeling pretty zen. But then I recognized a swirl in my belly that wasn’t happy. I’d been inconvenienced. My plans were upset. The day wasn’t going as I’d imagined. It was just under the surface but there it was—the feeling that it should be different. In the moment of recognition that I was suppressing my disappointment something else happened. As I was putting the groceries into the trunk I saw that there was absolutely nothing wrong with that moment. How could it be any different than it was right then? Any unhappiness was the result of a thought, not what was. So simple.
I’d like to share some pieces I’ve written about that game I play where I struggle or berate myself for not being who I think I should be, or how I should be.
Here is a short piece where we were given two words: view and abdomen
The view from above as if As if I could see what lies below What lies below is a mysterious world. The mysterious world of the abdomen’s going’s on The abdomen’s going’s on such as peristalsis, enzymes, and chyme, Chyme being the masticated, digested food I ate. The food I ate, did I truly taste it? Did I truly taste the bread, its butter? The bread, its butter considered only for its sustenance, Simply to sustain or perhaps to nourish, Perhaps to nourish the view from above. And so below.
TO KNOW THE DARK Go. No hesitation this time. Straight in without concealed flashlight Or candle stub. You’ve circled the well, Dipped only a toe tip While professing equanimity, is-ness, And that crap about saying yes regardless. Let me tell you You will know the dark Only when it takes you, Wraps you, swallows you whole. So you say.
HERE FOR IT ALL Rilke said that the point of embodiment, life, is to feel everything; to know every moment intimately. Osho advised us to celebrate everything. Rumi spoke of welcoming in even a crowd of sorrows at the door. It’s that damn yes thing again. You say, I got this, but there you are bawling at the ache or the break, the loss or the hungry heart. You go back and forth across the threshold, remind yourself to kneel and kiss the ground. Yet you toss, you turn, you check and check again—what if? you say; what about? you ask. While outside it could be rain or snow or blinding sun and you think you should choose one or the other or the other to embrace or denounce. When you could simply be here for it all.
What about you? How do you manage present-ness? What brings you home to yourself? What grabs you by the shirt and takes you away? Memories or plans?
Beautiful writing to express beautiful thoughts.
Deepam, your ruminations remind me why yoga is so important to mental health. When I skip it, the inconveniences of life are multiplied.