We interrupt these posts for a little vulnerability

In just a few days I will be heading off for a yoga retreat in Mexico with many of my kula friends from last year.  It will be a week of time on the beautiful Pacific Ocean sharing our hearts and pushing our bodies to their twisty bendy limits.  When I left for the trip last year I was grateful and excited for the experience and then sad to see it end.  I swore I would return this year.  When the 2018 retreat was presented I quickly signed up for the event and made sure my bathing suits, yoga pants, and sunscreen were ready.

So now the retreat is just a few days away and my enthusiasm has waned.  In fact, some FOMO for the events at home is creeping in.  What?  I want to spend more days in Salt Lake City than on the beach eating tropical foods, riding the waves, and venturing into my heart?  I know, it’s crazy. I’ve got a killer opportunity on the beach while all of my friends staying at home are wishing me well and even showing me their envy.  What am I thinking?

Last year when I was leaving for this retreat I was filled with wonder.  I knew no one on the retreat.  I hadn’t even studied with the yoga teacher running the retreat.  I didn’t know what to expect.  Now I know.  I’m sure there will be new activities but the wonderment and newness are gone.  Also last year I was working and the retreat was meant to provide some of what I believed would be much needed ‘self-care’.  I could leave the rat race of the working world to enter the world of relaxation and retreat.  Now, I’m not working (and by doing that providing myself ‘self-care’ every day) so perhaps I don’t need the special care.  Well, the reality is my heistation to escape is something more than no newness or need for a get away.  When I remember the retreat now I remember that compared myself to all the other yogis on the retreat.  Compared to the yogis last year I was a yogi newbie.  I couldn’t do the moves that other yogis were doing.  A number of the attendees had even studied yoga teacher training.  I’m more of a remedial yogi.  It seemed to me that everyone there was much more masterful in their movements.  Then there was the size issue.  Compared to all the yogis in the kula I felt I was the most height/weight disproportional.  I was bigger than everyone else.  Between the mastery and size issues I was starting to feel more intimidated rather than excited about going to the retreat.

So, here I am one year after my first Mexico retreat.  Have my movements gotten any better?  Will I impress anyone with a more limber body?  I don’t think so.  And my weight?  No I don’t think that has changed (okay maybe it’s gone up a little.  I don’t know, I don’t bother to weigh myself).  Honestly, does anyone care?  Probably not.  Yoga is not about Lulu Lemon pants and lithe bodies.  Yoga for me is a way of connecting with myself spiritually, physically, and through my heart.  So my apprehension- it seems a little un-yogalike.  In fact it seems very un-yogalike.  Oh boy, I hear a self flagellation coming on for making my yoga retreat all about appearances.   But wait...it gets worse.

Yesterday, I went to yoga class at my local studio.  I love the instructor, the movement, and the other yogis around me.  Yesterday’s class included that particular pose that makes me a little crazy- yummy monkey pose.  I’ve spoken of it in earlier blogs.  It is still my nemesis.  During class In addition to the traditional yummy monkey we also did a pigeon yummy monkey combination, and a sort of standing yummy monkey.  I was not feeling yummy AT ALL.  Reaching behind me to grab my foot with the opposite hand?  It just won’t work for me- breathing or no breathing.  So to be successful in the pose I use a prop- I wrap a strap around my foot and hold the strap as close to my foot as I can using my opposite hand.  With that set up I have success.  Breathing through the pose I looked around the room.  Everyone had their yummy monkey in place- without props.  Every single person in the studio- young, old, tall, short, they could all pull it off without a prop.  Except me.  There I was judging myself- AGAIN.  Noticing that everyone was a more masterful yogi - even the lady who had been a dancer and a Pilates student but was brand new to yoga.  And all of them...more height/weight proportionate.  My head was in an ugly space, I was considering myself a failure, a yogi unqualified to be called a yogi.  However, even with all of the negative self-talk some part of me kept pushing through, kept attempting each move.  And I wasn’t attempting half-heartedly either.  I was giving the practice my dedication.  

Through my efforts I suddenly had a thought.  Yes, it was true.  Everyone in the room was slimmer and more flexible than I was.  However, did everyone in the room represent everyone in the world?  Hell no!  There are millions of people out there (billions really) who have never been to a yoga studio.  They are bigger, and smaller, and older and younger and they’ve never tried yoga.  Maybe they don’t know about it.  Maybe they are scared of yoga.  Maybe they are home thinking, “I can’t do yoga.  I’m too fat, stiff, tall, hairy, etc. to do yoga”.  And then there’s me.  I’m in the studio to represent all those other people who don’t have the courage to show up.  I am there to say, “I’m not here to do it right and I am just perfect”.  A dear friend once told me, “God doesn’t make junk”.  I am not junk.  I am a heart, a body, and a creative spirit.  I get to be the special one.  The one who represents all those others.  I’m headed to Mexico to show myself that anyone can be a yogi.  Even me.  I can’t guarantee that I won’t go back to that ugly space in my head.  It’s a habit I’ve developed, a space where I often venture.  Only now I have an escape route and here’s hoping that route gets wider and brighter in my mind.