“And when the tears you cry are all you can believe, just give these loving arms a try and have a little faith in me.”
~ John Hiatt
It has never taken much to make me happy.
In college, there was a boy who would bring me cookies in the dining hall and proclaim exactly that.
A kind word. A sweet gesture. A chocolate chip cookie. Nothing grand.
When I first got married, we lived well, but I knew in my heart I would have been happy with just some love in a shack.
The other night, someone was celebrating an anniversary of sorts and passed out roses; I was one of the many recipients and was so touched, you would have thought I had been handed a diamond.
Here and there, I am often the recipient of other people’s kindnesses. It is never really anything different than what I would do myself but, these days, anyone’s generosity towards me sort of catches me off guard.
No small gift has been the opportunity to write—and this came about through yoga.
A long story short, my practice led to a meeting with an editor who asked me to blog on all things yoga.
Most of my articles are published, but some are stashed in a backlog, maybe never to be posted, ever. These are the posts I find too revealing; they talk about what I think is my grief.
I am surprised to have come upon such deep grief. How did it get there, especially if I am seemingly so easy to please?
Supposedly, past traumas are stored in our bodies, and it is the yoga poses that release them.
Truly, I thought I had dealt with any traumas long ago; however, now I think not. I think instead I just shoved them down, hiding them so well that I reached this point in time not realizing I had ever even suffered at all.
For them to appear now has startled me; but, then again, I practice almost every day.
I am not sure how well-equipped I am to deal with any sort of grief—and I am most surprised by my inclination to internalize, laying the blame on the inside.
I am trying to fortify myself but, admittedly, at times, I think I have crumbled a bit. But maybe this is just what grieving is?
Maybe to grieve is to feel whatever comes up, to not stuff the rainbow of emotions and to not try to figure everything out.
Maybe I am not so much crumbling as I am just grieving.
In the past, I never gave grief much credence; I did not see the strength in it.
When encountering difficult times, my goal was always to hunker down, push aside any negative feelings and move right along.
But, now there is yoga.
The practice not only uncovers lost wounds but also makes me feel the feelings associated with them.
Thank goodness, though, on top of that, the practice also gives me the tools to move through these feelings and not just bury them as I guess I must have years ago.
All this was never an intention; it is just what has come about.
Sometimes, after a practice, I feel joyous.
Sometimes, I feel spent.
Sometimes, at the end in pigeon pose, I feel rested and, other times, I cannot stop the tears from flowing.
Either way, emotions are moving through me which is more than I can say was happening before and I’m thinking that’s a good thing.
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Ed: Bryonie Wise