I can’t stop shitting. Thanks, Ana Forrest.
I spent the day with Ana yesterday at a Yoga Journal conference day-long intensive that promised to open my heart. Ana said shit was stuck inside us, and doing cobra on the towel we could move it out, and I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing for the past year.
It makes sense that we would have to get rid of our shit before our hearts could open. Ana promised everyone that after a series of cobras and bows while laying our bellies on top of rolled-up towels that none of us would suffer from high-altitude constipation that often affects visitors to this Rocky Mountain camp. And it works. Holy crap.
I’ve been eliminating the shit from my life for so long, it seems. Being at this conference makes me realize, again, that I still have a lot in there (physically, mentally, spiritually). Depending on the day, I tell people that I’m on sabbatical and figuring out what’s next or that I’m an unemployable print journalist without a future.
Truth is, I’m training to become a yoga teacher and letting go of all the stress-induced bad habits that my former life as an editor-in-chief encouraged. I’m doing things that I would never in a million years have done when I considered myself a Green Diva. Like cleaning the new yoga studio in my neighborhood in exchange for membership and blogging in exchange for access to this conference. When I can get over who and what I once was (the shit), I’m enjoying all this immensely.
I paid my own money to spend yesterday with Ana, before the elephant invite came. It was worth it. Ana swore and played with beautiful poses and kept me amused and connected for an entire day. My system is reeling, and nothing’s ever gotten inside my gut like your towel roll tricks. Now I’m just waiting for my head to empty and my heart to fill.
It’s just a lot faster process in my body than it is in the long stagnant bowels of my mind.