There’s no crying in yoga.
Wait, no, that’s baseball. I’ve seen plenty of people cry in yoga. I’ve cried in yoga. Actually, I cried in
yoga today.
It came as a surprise, just a simple, spontaneous, child’s
pose at the end of my savasana. After a
practice that felt pretty good. But I
had to face it – I’d been in a bona fide slump. The slump is filled with self-doubt and
anxiety. It happens in occasional
cycles, often following something I perceive as a personal failure or mistake. The slump awakens my dormant inner naysayer,
who chides me with criticisms of my performance and questions my self-worth. It’s a mean, condescending voice. It wants me to be small.
Thankfully, there are other voices in the room. The voice of my instructor reminds me gently
to breathe, to be present, to acknowledge my thoughts and surrender them. Her gentle adjustments guide my body to hold
these intentions. From here awakens the
voice of my inner teacher, which is not linked to my success or failure. I
remember the passing nature of these sensations. I recall the knowledge that all good things
take time, that challenges are but stepping stones on the journey, that I make
mistakes because I’m willing to try, and that being small does not serve my
higher purpose. It tells me I can offer
the gift of grace to myself and others.
It’s just another way to practice yoga. In the past, I might
have run from that discomfort, distracting myself with food, alcohol or some
form of chatter. I might have intensified the slump, thinking something was even more wrong with me for feeling this way. But now - through practice - I can breathe into
the tears, into that doubtful, grieving place and allow it to be. When it passes, I am lighter. For now, the voice of the slump is gone.
In its place is gratitude.
You are very close to the Divine. The perfection you are seeking is as
close as your breath. It is only because
we get caught in a state of dualism that we feel separate from that experience.
-
Sri
Shambhavananda, from Spontaneous Recognition
