Yoga giveth, yoga taketh away
So. Been going to mysore-style class for going on three weeks now, and I cannot tell you the amazing things I’m discovering with my practice. Biggest one is how even though I practice the same thing day in, day out, things are never exactly the same. Some days I can jump back five times without toes touching the ground, some days things are so heavy I can barely lift them. Some days balance is rock-solid, some days things are so wobbly I wonder if I’m (still) hungover from the day before. So while the practice is usually triumphant because hey, look at me! I can finally touch my toes/lift my leg up/twist like a pretzel, it’s never a guarantee that on any given day, I’ll be able to do any or all of those things in my practice.
Take that ever-elusive posture, Urdhva Mukha Paschimottanasana. About a couple of weeks ago, I got it. I really did! Held the dang thing for five breaths, exited cleanly, gave myself a(n) (invisible) fist pump. Yeah! One more posture conquered, right?
Well wouldn’t you know it, a couple days later, it was GONE. Vanished. As if I’d never done such a thing, held such a posture. I was like, what the…? Where did it go? Someone took it away! Waah! Okay, I didn’t really want to cry. But I got a little frustrated, I must admit.
And then there’s that one-two punch of all primary series postures: the impossible Kurmasana-Supta Kurmasana combo. Ever since I’ve been practicing Ashtanga, I’ve coveted those postures. Everything I did, every forward bend I took, every hamstring-lengthening posture I went into, were all for the purpose of achieving the near-improbable task of putting both my legs behind my neck. Theoretically I knew they were possible. I’ve seen pictures! I’ve seen people in class do it! But could I, with my short arms and legs, ever achieve it? Nah, not in one bazillion years.
But then lo! I did it last week! Sure it was with the help of my teacher, and sure she had to practically wrestle me into the posture, but there it was—legs behind the head, fingers bound together behind me. BAM! I almost felt like crying with joy! And the same week, I did the ol’ knees-straight/heels-off-the-ground thingy in Kurmasana. I felt like doing this little piggy and going ‘weeeeeee!’ all the way home!
So it was with some confidence that I stepped on my mat yesterday even though (a) it was a Monday, (b) I was feeling extra-tired from not having woken up at 5 am the last two days (Saturday and Sunday after all), and (c) I was recovering from a cold. None of that mattered, I thought. This time, I was gonna bust out the ENTIRE primary series with every posture finally correct! No modifications!
And of course, things fell apart after that. I won’t bore you with the particulars of my epic failure, but suffice it to say all the things I achieved last week went to the toilet, and even some postures that I’ve been semi-confidently doing for the last few months ran away screaming from my mat.
What happened?
Probably vanity. And ego. And yes, a feeling of some trepidation about “Will I? Can I?” with my new postures.
Just goes to show you that this yoga thing ain’t just physical. It’s mental too. Actually, I’m coming more and more to the realization that it’s MOSTLY mental. And emotional. When your heart is ready and your ego is gone and your mind is humble is when the postures come. I know this, dang it. I do.
But once in awhile, I let outside forces creep into my practice, my mind starts wandering, my attention diverts. Once in awhile, I get impatient or competitive or show-offy. And more than anything that affects me physically, more than the cold or hunger or tiredness, it’s my mental outlook and attitude that will determine whether my practice that day will be joyful and light, or a sludgy mess.
But luckily, I have a teacher that keeps reminding me that all I need is to keep practicing. “Practice and all will come,” she says, quoting from some guy in India. 
And really, at the end of the day, that’s all I can do.
See you on the mat tomorrow.
