Last Tuesday I went to yoga practice for the first time in a long time. I have not had a real traditional mysore style practice since 2010. I haven’t even gone to yoga classes consistently since March. I got there and knew it was going to be an experience for me. Good or bad.
As I am going through the Primary Series, I feel my mind soaring. It remembers the practice, has longed for it and we are rocking. However, I was not in touch with my body at all. So much so that as I prepped myself for headstand, I felt my back spasm and I crumpled to the floor. When the instructor came over to help me get into the asana, I declined and had to go immediately into savasana. It took everything to gather my mat and my belongings and limp out of the studio.
I then proceeded to spend all of last week in bed, getting up only for the minimal of tasks. My boyfriend came into town and had to take care of me the entire weekend. I just felt plain STUPID.
Stupid that I pushed myself so much that I hurt myself. In an effort to match my previous experiences, I did not practice ahimsa. I was not compassionate towards myself or my body.
I realized that health is indeed my greatest wealth. I can have all the ambition I want, but if my body isn’t on board, all that is for the birds, honey.
Yesterday, I practiced at home. I stopped after Prasarita Padottanasana C. Very humbling, but I knew that I could not push myself any farther without seriously hurting myself. Something is better than nothing.
I love this practice. I know it will come back to me in time. All things need time.