This has been my mantra lately.
When the dark pull of longing might take me away from myself I remember, "I practice yoga."
When I feel lost, numb, afraid, I tell myself, "This is my yoga practice."
When waves of sadness wash over me, "This to is my yoga."
I am breaking open to something new in my life and it can hurt. My practice offers me a way into the pain, the emptiness whose contours I touch, gently with compassion and in this way find spaciousness, freedom, choices.
In our backbend practice this week (up again and again and again our teacher urges us) I found a wide bright expansive landscape inside. Like the view from a mountain top on a clear day, all before me appeared with clarity, equanimity, poise.
"This is my practice," to remember this spaciousness even as storm clouds gather, the horizons thicken, to welcome the heavy rain into my dry soil.
My practice is yoga.
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