For the past month or so, I've been gradually easing back into a more challenging daily practice by going through a slow-paced series of hip openers and twists with some down dogs, planks, and forward folds thrown in for good measure. The primary reason was relaxation at first - I missed yoga, but was convinced I was still too weak to push myself too hard...yatta yatta. So I took it easy, and after a little while noticed that months of lingering tightness was gone. In one of those first stretchy/twisty practices, I was astonished when I began to perspire after a simple down dog/plank/down dog transition - and pleasantly surprised to find that it became much easier quickly. I congratulated myself on allowing myself to be completely honest about my recovering body's capabilities; by not pushing it, I made genuine progress.
Today, as I was trying to decide what kind of practice I felt would be best, I caught myself applying huge doses of caution. "Oh, no. Keep it simple. Be honest with yourself. Why not just do three rounds of sun salutations and some gentle reclining twists? Remember, Annalisa, you're not up to snuff." I didn't want that. I wanted to sweat and be challenged, to feel my body opening back up as my mind settled, but I tried to tell myself that I needed just the opposite.
I went with my gut, and chose a twenty minute intermediate practice from the Jiva Diva Yoga Jam podcast - my favorite yoga podcast ever. Part of me fought that decision - my gut was saying one thing, and my head was saying another. I decided if I got weak, if something started to hurt, I'd quit or sub a more accessible asana.
Neither was necessary. In fact, I don't think I've ever moved through that practice as easily. Revolved triangle gave me a bit of a tremble, but considering this was the most vigorous practice I've had since...nevermind when, I think that's understandable. (At least my hand went all the way to the floor outside my foot!) The whole time the nagging little voice was there, telling me I was taking on too much, too soon, but I knew otherwise. I even almost tried to kick up into headstand from half headstand, but when my arms shook like mad as one foot came off the floor, I knew it was best to leave it alone for now.
This helped me realize that I need to learn to identify when I'm really being truthful with myself. Sounds totally convoluted, right? Well, I've exerted myself. I'm still a little shaky. I might need another cup of tea, even, and a cookie. All those gentle, stretchy, easy practices were precisely what I needed to do, and prepared me for today's practice quite well. (I'm still amazed!) The resistance to that practice, the nagging voice of reason that told me I should avoid taking on too much? Well, I have to say, my comfortable little evening practice has been nice. Easy's good. I'm human, and I like easy. So it was only natural that part of me would resist something not-so-easy, and that using the "truth" about my capabilities would very easily enable me to keep that pattern going for a little while longer. The truth was what came from my gut - and it turned out to be more powerful than I ever thought it could be, including the part that led me to not take on headstand just yet. Not only was I able to move through the more challenging practice, I was able to move through it quite well. So much for the limiting voice of "truth", huh?
I'd finish this up with a fun statement about when satya isn't satya, but I'll be honest: I need to chill. I'm blissfully beat!
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