By Debbie Lynn
“Yoga is a dance between control and surrender– between pushing and letting go– and when to push and when to let go becomes part of the creative process, part of the open-ended exploration of your being.” -Joel Kramer
When I began my yoga practice I had no idea how it would be the parallel to my life as the road less traveled.
It came to me, called me out on my shit (over and over again) and blended, rocked, then caressed my soul.
In all my clashes of day-to-day life yoga was a natural outlet to the urban aggravation, the corporate knotted bullshit and the “single parent” craziness that so many of us face. I quietly go to class, get revived and head into the abyss of the day.
I practice yoga in my mind and body and bring it with me in everything I touch. I am often asked about my convictions, religious affiliations or where I stand on controversial topics because I am such a contradiction. But that is the beauty of my practice—I know what I know until I know better—and there is no way to put that modus operandi into a sect.
Yoga always has an edge to reach, a song to sing and a resting place to find solace in a world ruled by labels and classifications. I revel in that. It feels familiar.
(For me) it isn’t about where I stand right or wrong, it is about being open enough to let something new and different enter my space and allowing it to just be. I figured out a long time ago that an absolute stance on anything is far too constricting and stagnate. Melding my spirituality without being fixed, my yoga breathes, moves and undulates with an ease that I align with.
And it is that expansion (through the breath) that creates an airway to peace.
When I am at peace, I can touch the universal vibration that moves me to an intelligence that seemingly holds vigil in harmony in and out of the realms of who we are—all of it. And in that harmonious sanctum my creativity is captured, nurtured and extended.
I had no way of foreseeing the how my practice would shape my patience and my body. I had always used the breath to moderate my emotional exhibitions (to reel them in) but it became more and more evident that yoga was working me inside out and complimenting my presence as if it were my lover and I guess it is.
When I practice I feel more confident. When I practice I feel healthier, stronger and wiser. I attract like souls and repel the doubters. I have better concentration and newfound respect for my wounded mind. I revel in moments, not where I was or where I am going because I will get there (wherever “there” is) in good time. I just don’t worry, but I still struggle with the knot because I am human and people still piss me off.
There are times when no amount of sensibility is going to tame my ego and my horns shoot out of my head and knock that damn halo I sport into the fire raging within, but through the years yoga has exposed me a deeper awareness of the this ugly side.
In this awareness I can quickly center, breathe and get out of a potentially dangerous situation without too much damage. I am balanced and better for it. Still knotted, hopefully I can find the thing that triggered my anger to give it some love.
What I also know is that I hold no expectations for diminishing problems, (personal or worldly) yet I hold high expectations of myself to handle them with logic, serenity and my breath.
I like to believe that with new the acceptance of yoga, that more people are benefitting from it mind/body and spirit (perhaps our Politicians should all chaturanga dandasana? Just sayin’). But in the mean time, untying knots and or getting into them will remain my personal bane. There are so many combinations to explore, and some are much harder to learn and then undo than others.
Like our practice, each twisted knot has a purpose and when that purpose has reached its potential, releasing the bind always leaves a mark. Yoga does that. It leaves traces of what we left behind so we have a constant reminder of how far we have come without regrets.
Yoga is: working it (life) out, then tying it (life) back up again because life is a process, a journey, a job—it just is.
And we always have the option to utilize our rope—-tie a knot or hang out completely loose.
Editor: Dana Gornall