A Hard Practice

The yoga challenge has been amazing. Most days, I have come to the mat filled with anticipation of the calm and balance that it brings. Of washing away the day’s stress by breathing, sweating, and being no where else but in the moment. There have been some days when getting to the mat is purely for the sake of the challenge. Even on these days, though, I leave entirely grateful for the time I set aside to practice.

Today, I came to the mat heavy with sadness. Yesterday a tragedy occurred at what was supposed to be a very happy event. One that my coworkers and I look forward to each and every year. When we can be together and have fun. No one was expecting it and it is truly awful. I know that work will be a very different place for a long time.

Today, I came to the mat knowing that by simply choosing to practice, I was going to be confronted with my internal sadness; with the sharpness and realness of the pain. Yoga, on good days and bad, forces you to look inside and feel exactly what it is you are feeling. There is no hiding.

My choice of class mirrored my thoughts; it was extremely difficult. There were times when I wanted to cry. Times when I wanted to yell. To scream at the unfairness. I breathed and thought and worked through it. An hour class will not cure me and my colleagues but breath and thought and time spent working through this will.