It’s been over two weeks since my last post. I’d like to say I’ve been so utterly swamped with urgent, important things that I simply haven’t had the time. The truth, however, is this: I couldn’t find any way to put one word together with another and another in any kind of harmony. Words, sentences, paragraphs have eluded me. They still do. I won’t tell you how long it’s taken me to write these last seventy-odd words. In short, my brain feels like mush. Anything I put on the page reads like gobbledygook.
I have two theories: one, my baby has appropriated my brain; two, the fact that my baby is due in two months has hit home and I’m overwhelmed and somewhat stunned.
To be fair, I have been sick (please, please go away soon nasty cough); but this hasn’t created my inertia, though it certainly has compounded it.
I have a list in front of me of writing and other tasks that need to be done. Suffice to say it’s as long today as it was yesterday. My motivation level? Zero. Disappeared into the world of ‘two months til baby arrives’ panic.
So what’s a pregnant yogini to do? Well, at first I tried being frustrated about it. That didn’t help. Then I tried just going with it, but, well … I got nothing done. Now I’m trying a different approach – simply doing it anyway.
I considered what lesson the universe is trying to offer. On first glance, I thought it was trying to teach me to rest when I need to. A fine lesson indeed, and one that I’m heeding. But surely there’s more, and I think it’s this: things won’t always come easily; sometimes you’ll simply have to persevere, wade through the gobbledygook until it makes sense.
Not a bad lesson to be learning right now. I have no idea how to be a mother to an infant. I’m not a baby whisperer or a saint. I know I will be overwhelmed with emotion, fatigue, love and confusion when I bring my baby home. But guess what? Putting off caring for my child until I know what I’m doing isn’t an option. Just like my deadlines – self imposed or real – will be there whether I feel motivated to meet them or not, whether the words come easily or if I have to drag them writhing and reluctant from the inner depths.
Where does my yoga practice come in? Well, I’ve barely stepped onto my mat in the last two weeks and my meditation practice seems to have been sucked into a black hole. Luckily my pesky habit of self-enquiry hasn’t gone astray and I spend a bit of time simply being present with my feelings and probing for what might be underneath. Importantly, through this process I’ve found a balance between being gentle with myself (I still stop and rest whenever I need to) and facing reality. Had I simply swept my feelings under the carpet or let them overwhelm me I wouldn’t have written this post. Now that I have, I feel so much better. I don’t need to produce perfection. What a relief!
hot on elephant
July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. Mom, can I Call her Mom, Too? An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD. Jon Stewart makes first appearance since retiring—”it’s not your country.”