Friday, 16 November 2012

Pizza night and the Mysore morning after

This morning, I woke up groggy and tired. I didn't want to sleep any more, but nothing in my body wanted to bend, stretch or push either.

I'm ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN this feeling had nothing to do with the activities of the previous night.


Spinach, red onions, roasted eggplant, mush-a-rooms, cherry tomatoes, peppers, tomato sauce (with about 8 cloves of garlic).

1) Crust
2) Toppings

3) Bake

4) Attempt to peel the cheese-glue off the tin foil and free the pizza!

5) Pizza cheers because you can't wait for the rest of the dinner party it smells so good! (Sorry about my face. Gawds...)

6) "Traffic was horrible!"

7) "Would Sandy notice if I stole her dogs?"

By 10 PM, us girls were glued to TLC's Breaking Amish while the boys held their heads in their hands and pretended not to fall asleep.

Understandably, the next morning was tough on my old creaky bones.

It took a great deal of determination to drag myself off to Mysore.

I made it to Ardha Padma Paschimottanasana and wanted to give up. Every jump back hurt. I felt nauseous, dizzy and tired. I wanted to give up.

I forced myself through to backbends.

I've been able to comfortably drop back (fall back, catch myself on my hands, Thanks, Gravity!) for a few days now.

But coming back up is another story failure.

I push.

I fall.



Repeat, repeat, repeat until my arms feel jello-y from catching myself.

Today was even worse. I was nearly ready to give up, so I sat up and watched the room around me.

A girl in the front row dropped back, pushed herself back up, and did it again. And again. And again.

Something clicked. Something about the way she pushed her legs down, something about the way her body floated up...

My favourite yoga teacher always says, "We learn by watching," and it was never more true than today.

I tried it again, and lifted up as high up as I've ever gone.

And fell back down.

I tried it again, and again, until I was frustrated and exhausted. I thought to myself, "No more falling back, GET ALL THE WAY UP."

And it worked.

So I did it again.

And again.

And by the time I was done, I forgot how tired I was when I came in. I couldn't even really comprehend that I had lifted up from a drop back all by myself.

I finished the closing sequence and lay down for rest.

Leaving the studio, Jill, the girl at front desk asked me, "Did you get up?"

"What do you mean?"

"From the backbends," she explained. "I was watching you. You lifted so high up, and fell back down. After a while I couldn't bear to watch anymore."

I laughed. "Yeah, I got up eventually."

She beamed. "Congratulations! That's huge!"

In a way, it is. My body achieved something it hadn't done before.

But facing that fear of falling back? Pushing through that fear and trusting in my instincts?

A surfboard and some waves taught me that years ago.

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