I’m going to dangerously make some assumptions.
If you regularly read elephant journal, my guess is that yoga has been a part of your life in some form for some time. If you sporadically read elephant journal, my guess is that yoga will part of your life in some form for some time. Either way, at some point in time, past or present, you will experience the post partum yogic experience.
A good friend of mine is an occasionally yogi. He recently told me he bought a 30 day pass to a studio and is going to commit to 30 classes in 30 days. His exact words were, “I want to see if I have a mystical experience.” For those of us who have already gone through that transformation, the word mystical is barely the icing on the cake of that experience.
I’m pretty envious of his journey (I know, so not yogi)—yet, I am.
It was less than a year ago, although appears to be lifetimes in my memories, I embarked on a 30 class in 30 day journey. It was like wandering into an Alice in Wonderland world.
Yoga and I had a strong commitment for many years before my journey but I wanted a mystical life changing experience. And boy did I get one. The feeling of the post mystical journey was a sensational event. I switched jobs, found happiness and graduated from a 200 hour training. I felt different. I felt alive. I felt calm.
Then, ever so suddenly, the daily grind like sand on wet feet, slowly trickled it’s way back into my life. I felt truly disconnected with myself. It was only after observing myself verbally bashing a sad, sad person who really needed compassion and not criticism that I realized I had strayed far from my intended path.
It was like someone had turned a light on me and I withdrew from the person speaking to the person observing the speaking. Even though that stranger talking was using my body as her vessel.Strange? Trust me, I was a little perturbed by the experience and I was the one having it.
My teacher, always says it’s a dance, you stray, you balance, you stray, you balance. Life seems harder now though. Staying “present” in a world of madness is not a simple task. A daily yoga commitment is not an easy habit when your job easily extends beyond the eight hour work day. It’s harder now because that person, that person who takes over my mind and body when I don’t make time for yoga. That person kinda sucks. Actually she whole-heartedly sucks and I really don’t like her.
Yet, I am her. She’s a sly little devil that one. She waits patiently and the second I blink she pounced overtaking my thoughts, my words, my reactions. So, I mourn. I mourn the days that the challenge of completing 30 in 30 led me to another universe. I feel like a sad little girl standing in the cold, pouring rain outside a window. Inside the window is a group of happy people, joyfully holding one another, laughing around fire. Cliché, I know.
While I’m really great at throwing myself a pity party, the truth is that I’m not hopeless.The thing about yoga, is that it’s in me too. It’s not something I do.
I do asana. I do meditation. I do prayer. I do contemplation. I am yoga.
It is just as much a part of me as that whiny mean girl. The best part is that yoga always waits patiently for me to find myself. It waits patiently without judgement for me to come up for a breathe of air and realize how much I miss it. Then it greets me warmly.
It’s a routine. It’s a habit. It’s hard work. But good things don’t just come for free. If commitment is all I need to make to stay balanced… golly gee I’m gonna work my little tush off, figuratively and literally, so I can tell the post partum yogic experience:
“Ride it out little Mama, get ready, here comes the next set.”
Olga is a traveling vagabond goddess currently living in Boston. She keeps her soul smilin’ with her dedicated yoga practice, running away to the wilderness in her free time, and practicing gratitude. She loves finding things to climb, people to hug, and harnessing her inner domesticated side. If you like what you see, you can catch her meandering inspirational tidbits at http://awwsnapnews.blogspot.com.~Editor: Hayley Samuelson.