Lions and Camels and Nietzsche, Oh My!

"Writing is like magic because you cannot see the simple psychology you are weaving, the questions you are asking, the way you are reshaping how you interact with your world," writes Rebecca K. O'Connor, author, falconer, and blogger on The Rumpus.

I wasn't able to articulate why I haven't been able to blog lately until I read that wonderful piece of O'Connor's. Lately, I feel like I'm seeing life so clearly. In looking back over the stages when I've blogged most often--and blogged best, if I may be so bold--it was when I was mired in little tragedies I was willing to share with you all. I was desperately trying to peak behind the fabric of my experience, and writing was the fingers that allowed me to grasp. For a moment, perhaps I'm taking a break from weaving that simple psychology.

These past few months have led up to a pretty big change in my life. I made a decision that took far too long to arrive at, but the relief that swept over me after making it was so welcome I don't regret the lost time one bit. I feel now that I've been on my knees, begging for mercy, for over two years, and I finally heard a voice saying it was OK to get up. And, mind you, not one of those "Hello, E, it's schizophrenia calling" kind of voices. Something different.

Anyway, how wonderful it is to finally stand up! Nietzsche and, oddly enough, Sufi poet Rumi write that spiritual unfolding occurs in three stages: the camel, the lion, and then the child. In the camel phase, we feel we have been burdened with the suffering of our existence. We trudge onward, until finally we kneel, as a camel will, under the weight of our burdens. We surrender completely. It's only then that we can rise up like a lion, full of the strength and majesty we need to meet our challenges.

OK, I get it--it's kind of a cheesy comparison. (That's also an odd thing to say about something Nietzsche-generated.) But you know, don't we all get to feeling like we've been taking a knee from the weight of our burdens for far too damn long? Moreover, I bet we also all know what it feels like to finally set that heaviness aside and rise the fuck up. I'm feeling it now--every sleepless night, every jagged meditation session, every scalding tear, every desperate conversation with friends, every scrawl in the journal, and every sweaty yoga class--they do add up to something far bigger than the sum of their well-intentioned parts.

Ahhh. Life is good. I teach, I sweat, and I sleep. The only downside is that it doesn't provide me with much inspiration for blogging :-)

But I know from living in a dualistic universe that these things are cyclical ;-)  I'm sure the camel will be back, but for the moment, I'm sure enjoying being a lion.

Peeking Around the Doorframe

Hi!! *Peeks around shyly from door frame.*

I've missed y'all! Believe me, I'm here. I just haven't been coming out of my little house, or sitting on the porch and waving, or even shouting "hello!" from the window. But know that I'm watching, looking out and glad to know there's a happy little yoga blogging community out there. 

It's been a while since I've posted. Sometimes, the stuff that swallows up your life just doesn't belong on a blog!

But that doesn't mean that stuff doesn't belong in the yoga room. Man, I don't need to tell you, it's nice to have something steady to come to whenever a good sweat is needed.

I've been reminded lately of how much of a barometer yoga is. Weeks where I'm happy and calm, I march straight up to the front row, confident that my practice will simply be what it is, and that I don't need to worry about what's going to happen. Weeks where things are more challenging, I hang out in the back. My mind takes over, I'm wobbly, and I feel like my classes aren't "good." Always, though, I am pretty sure the yoga affords me tiny glimpses of awareness I wouldn't otherwise get, to say nothing of the physical benefits.

Fortunately, my new work schedule (it seems to change semesterly!) allows me to practice at different times, and I love how different the practice is at various times of the day! I get up for the 6:30 a.m. class on Friday mornings, and I'm solid and steady. I do all the postures and I'm happy to be there, like I've discovered some secret cache of time and place that only a handful of others know about. 9:00 a.m.s are a struggle, but I always feel like I won some sort of epic battle. And then, there are the p.m. classes. I suffer, I struggle, and then I struggle because I'm mad at myself for struggling. Fortunately, I leave cleansed, refreshed and just a bit lighter on the inside and out.

So... home is warm and safe, but I sure do miss my network of yogis. Know that I'm here and I'm reading!