Boy was I wrong

Happy October, fellow yogis and soon-to-be yogis. Man, folks in the blogosphere go bonkers for this month. When I checked my usual blogs on October 1st, rhapsodies about cider, cowl necks, cool weather, and bonfires abounded. These bloggers revel in the contemplative days of fall. I can get down with that.

Currently sitting in a coffee shop preparing to freewrite my fingers off, as a paper relating blogs to Aristotle’s Poetics looms over me. I shall prevail.

Remember when I expressed some ambivalence about returning to Blue Lotus due to the slow pace of the classes? Scratch that. My ambivalence persists no longer, for I now have a pulling desire to immerse myself in the classes and philosophy of Blue Lotus.

It all started yesterday when I attended a 4pm class. Earlier that day, obsessive, destructive, dark thoughts plagued my mind, causing me to almost harm my body as a result. I felt inadequate in my classes, anxious about looming assignments, and self-conscious in front of others. I saw that Blue Lotus offered a class at a new time, so I booked it over there for some afternoon vinyasa.

Wowza. The slow pace of the class provided me the time and quietness I needed to breathe through my fearful thoughts and choose new ones.  The instructor encouraged us to notice how we transition from pose to pose, how we often focus on the end pose or result and forget about how we actually get there. I felt comforted, protected, and challenged.

In true yoga junkie style, I attended another class this morning. As I sat on my mat waiting for class to begin, surrounded by 40-ish other women, I felt a rush of love envelope me. This is not hippie sh*t. This is real, people. I sat on my mat, closed my eyes, and viscerally felt the collective energy of my sisters. I expressed gratitude for the chance to practice with and learn from them. If I allowed my self-destructive thoughts their druthers, I would have fidgeted on my mat in an attempt to conceal my body from the tiny, fit yoga bodies luxuriating in their thinness/disciplined practice just centimeters away. But I chose to take care of myself, to feel something real, internal. And the love physically rushed in. My breathing deepened, my limbs felt warm. A smile grew on my face.

Then class began. Wowza did I sweat. My muscles shook. I had all of the time I needed to notice how my body felt in each pose and transition, and to breathe through any self-destructive thoughts that entered my mind. It rocked. And like any junkie, I feel addicted, controlled by the class that made me high.

Need more slow flow.



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