Extraordinary Mundane

In Yoga, the teacher always talks about listening to your breath. Listening to your body. At the end of class when we are relaxing she tells you to recognize each lung and how they are moving. Are they moving together? Is your ribcage moving because of your lungs? Is your breath shallow or deep? Are you engaging your diaphram or not? Well of course my mind immediately jumps to what I think is the right way to do it. Better breathe deeper, longer exhales, etc. I want to be right and I want to achieve. There’s got to be a goal right? But she said tonight “observe — don’t change anything just observe it”. Don’t change anything. It was hard to not change my breath. With each thing she said… I felt like I needed to alter myself that what my body was doing was wrong. Not changing things requires presense for me. I have to realize that not only in yoga, but in my life — there can be goodness without change. How I am doing it is just fine. There is no need to alter course on EVERYTHING. And it hit me. I never observe anything. I always immediately to try to go what is expected of me or what I think is right…and then adjust. What does that person want? What would make them more comfortable? What will get me to my goal faster.

What would life be like if I observed first? I dont think observation is always needed to make the right choice — but in the process of confidence and security — it confirms trust. It’s almost a type of surrender for someone who always is in control isn’t it? I would have to believe that everything will be ok if I dont take control. I must believe everything will be ok if I don’t micromanage things. What kind of space would that create? What kind of peace would there be? As I observed my breath I realized that it’s not really doing anything wrong…. it’s just happening. My body knows what is right. Yes I can control it… and sometimes that control will bring me what I need faster. But sometimes… it’s ok to just let it happen. Just observe.

Exercise has amazed me over the past two years with the emotional, mind and body connection. Now I feel like Im finally getting the spiritual connection.

In yoga , it’s all about being present and feeling your body. For a girl who’s gone decades completely ignoring her body, it’s still very uncomfortable to have to answer someone when they ask me a question about my body. I realize that I am not really aware of it.

“Do you feel tightness?” (no I feel like I can’t move my body this way)

How does your skin feel? (huh?)

Feel your breath. (I feel out of breath and I hate these planks)

Feel. Feel. Feel. All that talk about feeling gives me the heebie jeebies.

How about think. Think I can do well. Feel. Not so much. I’m still discovering why I would even want to feel this body of mine. Feels old. That is how it feels.

And I dont like that there are simple things I can not do in Yoga. I obviously have ego issues.

And yes, I know… it’s a process. I am sure that me doing yoga right now is exactly what I need. I do know I feel better after doing it.

So — after yoga last night I swam ½ a mile. I stopped a little bit about halfway through for a 2 minute break. I was a bit tired, but not near like I was last week. I think even still, I am recovering from that freaking flu.

I wanted to go do something today but I just haven’t gotten up the gumption. I feel lazy today. I will tomorrow.

This morning I got up and came down stairs and my husband greeted me with the news that Noah was sick. I felt like I was going to cry. We just have had nonstop sickness in this house this winter. It has been so brutal. Dinara was sick during the beginning of the week and now Noah. But it got better. Around 9am he puked all over the floor. So yay! Fun for mommy. And sucks for poor Noah. He’s feeling a bit better but he’s obviously got what we all have had. Dinara on her on accord went upstairs today to read in her bed. (What did you do with my daughter?) And then fell asleep for 2 hours. So obviously… we are still trying to overcome sickness here. And mentally, these sickies are going to put me in the loonie bin.

Today is Emma’s birthday. She’s 11. I can’t believe she’s 11 of course. Every parent says that and it’s somewhat a cliché in a blog to say it. But it really seems like yesterday when I was bringing her home from the hospital.

I must go now… I still have that post on suffering rolling around in my head. I need to find time to put it into words. Maybe I’ll just write a few statements and break it up over time….