Yoga Best

It's time to accept the fact that there is not going to be a time where the prospect of going to yoga at 6am will appeal to me. Especially in winter.

But I'm always glad I have gone.

Our instructor always has us dedicate our time to someone, which feels weird.
It shouldn't, though. since I spend most of the "mindfulness" time praying anyway.
Dedicating the time is more akin to intercession.

Usually, I don't plan who to pray for. When we start the whateverit'scalled breathing (ujjayi breathing) and starting stretches, a lot of times someone just shows up in my mind. It's not work at all to pray for them, it just kind of happens.

Yoga and prayer are a funny couple, as yoga a lot of times involves a lot of pain and struggle and "almost", almost getting that pose right, almost getting that anxiety out of my muscles, almost about to break my wrists and, consequently, my neck.

There are so many times when I pray that I feel a space of contentment, of speaking the words I know.
It's not until some event comes along that I push in to my heart to speak, meaning the words more intently, much like a yoga instructor pushing you deeper (horribly) into a certain pose. Tell you what, there's nothing like the feeling of poisoned needles into your lower spine to wake you up to talk to Jesus. HEYO

Nothing like God doing something similar to push you in like direction toward him.

Sometimes I wonder if that's all right, though.

I have been told before and have come to think of myself as a good woman for a crisis.
Stress and I handle one another pretty well actually. I'm extraordinarily productive and focused, if not a bit edgy.
When given a challenge or serious opposition, some fire licks inside and I kick it into ninth gear.
It's the straight shots, the easy doors, the mundane office work that gets me dumps water on me, however.

How do you learn to serve God in the shavasana as well as the mandukasana?

What I'm Noticing

Previously, I wrote about my yoga instructor's catch phrase: Notice what you notice.

I'm here now to tell you what I'm noticing.

The past seven days have flooded my body (literally) with anxiety. My cortisol levels have got to be just through the roof. My back has been locking up, my muscles are stiff, and my jaw is sore from unconsciously clenching my teeth.

There's a point to this, don't get super concerned.

Because of how much stress I was in, I decided on Sunday that I would go to 4 yoga sessions instead of my normal 2 per week.

Monday morning came, though, and I had stayed up late, so I chose sleep.
Tuesday morning came, though, and it was raining, so I chose sleep.
Wednesday morning came, though, and I chose sleep.

The past two nights, I've slept 10 hours each. It's not like I'm lacking sleep.

Notice what I notice.
Yesterday, our yoga instructor sent us a link to this article about the ten things the writer wishes people knew about yoga.

It's actually pretty good. The one that's sticking out to me this morning, is the point about how yoga is meant to be frustrating. I think it means physically, but shoot. It's mentally frustrating, too.
You think way too much about everything and about nothing and stupid things and oh my goodness I think my legs are going to rip out of their hip sockets.

But yoga is frustrating before you even get there.
Logically, I know that I really, really need to go. It would unknot my mind and body and align me for the day.
But I won't go.

Because even though I'm in pain and this is kind of masochistic, I'm choosing the known hurt over the unknown hurt.
Going to yoga is going to hurt really badly tomorrow not just because of my hurting body but because I've waited to do it. It'll also hurt because I've held off on thinking well, too.

Isn't that always the case?
Don't we so so often choose to harbor our sin or our pain or our anxiety because we understand it and know how to live within its constraints?
And later, after we have been forced to deal, don't we always wish we had taken ourselves on in stages instead of holding off until we're full underwater?