Some asanas are like friends, and I have two kinds. The first
is the easy kind, the kind I love to be with no matter how low I am or
high I am; no matter how angry, sad, or confused I am.
These friends are blankets, fat socks, warm milk, mac-and-cheese, and
romantic comedies on DVD. Makes me sigh, just imagining all that.
Downward Dog is this kind of friend. When I’m too sad to be optimistic, too tired to sleep, or too angry to trust my voice, that’s where I head. Why? Because in the pose, there are no other human faces to look at and no expressions to fake. I set my gaze on the ground and feel the ground loving me back. Unquestioning, unwavering support.
The other kind of friend is more
challenging. It asks, What is good about this awful
situation? Where can I find love in this situation? Where can I
find growth? Where can I lose some ego, where can I stop defending
myself? Where can I serve, even though I feel useless? This kind of friend is an irritating bugger that never loses sight of the best of me, and loves me enough to pull and push toward the best.
I could yank my hair out even as I’m
typing this: Triangle is this kind of friend.
I loathed Triangle for the first
year of practice. Resented it all day, every day. Then, for no identifiable reason, a grudging respect developed. Not an enjoyment, but a
reluctant appreciation for its possible potential. Now? It’s not like I
salivate on the way to Triangle, but when we meet during practice, there is a definite pleasure in the stretch, the
strength, the pull, and the challenge. Triangle knows what I’m
capable of, and she wants the best for me. I suspect she’s been
rooting for me from the beginning.
Which asanas are your mac-and-cheese friends? Which are the irritating buggers? I’d love
Thanks to both kinds of friends, and
for the friends who manage to be both. Thanks to yoga for being full of
Thanks to you, always, for the