Last Friday, I took a hot vinyasa class, and a lot of what the instructor said has stayed with me … especially this week as I began exploring  a new style of yoga that focuses much more exclusively on the physical aspects of practice.

The instructor – a very knowledgeable man – told us, as we held triangle pose for what felt like eternity, that so often we all focus on getting ‘there’ ~ as though ‘there’ was a place.  He emphasized that there is no ‘there’ ~ there’s only ‘here’ and if we push ourselves to take big strides our progress is often stalled or impeded … rather, one should focus on small improvements and adjustments.  Sort of like the tortoise and the hare ~ slow and steady wins the race.

I held on to that idea this morning.  My body was sore, and I felt overly exhausted (I’m learning this is pretty standard when I shake up my routine and try to incorporate something new).  But I got myself up and made it to class.  And once I was on my mat, in the heat of the studio, I reminded myself that my goal for this morning was to improve on my performance from yesterday’s class.  Which, much to my surprise and delight, I did.  Despite my fatigue and muscle sore-ness.

Hugely satisfying.  I knew I liked tortoises (and turtles!) for a reason.  We are of a like mind.

For the first time in I-don’t-even-want-to-admit how long, I found myself on my mat tonight.  I’d been meaning to get back into my Tuesday yoga ritual since January, but I hit a few road bumps.  And yes, I realize that most road bumps are navigable, it all just depends on one’s determination ~ but I’m going to use the excuse anyway.

I’ve taken my fair share of yoga classes, and as I may have mentioned, I found a teacher at my old studio who just made sense to me.  I rarely, if ever, missed her class.  Unfortunately, the yoga studio closed at the beginning of December and for a while, my teacher didn’t have a regular class.  But now, not only does she have one, but I’ve finally gotten my booty in order to attend.

It was blissful.  I mean that ~ even though my body feels like jelly right now, and I had a sad moment of truth about ten minutes into class when I knew that I might not be completely out of shape, but I’m completely out of yoga shape.

Appropriately (and timely) enough, meditation was about joy.  The opening quote was from August Strindberg (ah, flash backs to college Drama Lit classes, and “Miss Julie”) …

People are constantly clamoring for the joy of life.  As for me, I find the joy of life in the hard and cruel battle of life – to learn something is a joy to me. 

Let me tell you, there are many ways to find meaning in that quote.  As class began, our teacher reminded us that often, we get bogged down in life, and we forget to find the joy.  We instead focus on the endless repetitive parts of our day that wear on us.  Instead, we should make an effort to find the joy.  Find the joy in class, find the joy in folding socks, etc.   At one point, another quote included the phrase “cause-less joy” which for me was the essence of what she was saying. Find the joy, feel the joy, for no reason other than joy.

As I struggled through class, I could think of a lot of things not to be joyful about.  My shaking legs, my inability to do basic things that back in the fall felt like second nature, my frustration at my numb legs and feet …. The list could go on.  And then I re-focused on what I could be joyful about.  And there were just as many — if not more.  I was joyful to be on the mat again, even if things were challenging.  I was joyful to have the ability to still be active, even after losing feeling in my lower limbs in late December.  I felt joyful that I wasn’t allowing MS to define me, I was defining myself.  I was joyful to be back in my teacher’s class, and to be inspired by her thoughts and guidance.  I felt joyful that I’d made the effort to be there, even though new situations usually terrify me and leave me paralyzed in inaction.  I’ve grown up a lot over the past few years ~ part of it is adult-hood, part of it is John, and a lot of it is me finding my balance and creating my own stability and support system.  I was tremendously joyful about that … in fact, I still am.

And even now, snuggled on the couch with my man and my Lucy, I can feel joy.  And I can’t quite define it, or qualify it.  It’s just there.  And that’s pretty cool.

As much as I might try to explain how class ended yesterday, I couldn’t do the following passage justice.  Our yoga instructor ended with this, and while I find the entire thing very powerful, I think the image that struck me the most was the idea that our path is like ‘riding on a train backwards ~ we cannot see where we are going, only where we have been …. wisdom is whatever is going to happen to us today.’

In essence, this just further clarifies the impermanence of life, in a really positive, encouraging way.  I loved it, and my instructor was kind enough to send me the quote in its entirety, so I am sharing with you.

The Path is Uncharted

This path has one very distinct characteristic: it is not prefabricated. It doesn’t already exist. The path that we’re talking about is the moment-by-moment evolution of our experience, the moment-by-moment evolution of the world of phenomena, the moment-by-moment evolution of our thoughts and our emotions. 
The path is not Route 66, destination Los Angeles. It’s not as if we can take out a map and figure that this year we might make it to Gallup, New Mexico, and maybe by next year, we’ll be in L.A. The path is uncharted. It comes into existence moment-by-moment and at the same time drops away behind us. It’s like riding in a train sitting backward. We can’t see where we’re headed, only where we’ve been. This is a very encouraging teaching, because it says that the source of wisdom is whatever is going to happen to us today. The source of wisdom is whatever is happening to us right at this very instant. — Pema Chodron

Class tonight was blissful.

It wasn’t crowded, which meant not being on top of my neighbor’s mat, it wasn’t nearly as tough as the past two weeks (or, perhaps it just played more to my strengths) and my mind was much more focused (which, after the day I had, was a small miracle).

We talked about impermanence and attachment this evening.  I know I always say that class is fitting to what is happening in my life ~ I am not sure if that is the case, or if all the concepts and ideas of life can be applied to at least one thing within a person’s daily existence.  Irregardless, I needed the mental stretching class provided today.

A friend once said to me, as we sat on bleachers in a quiet playground with stars filling the sky, that the only thing that is certain is that nothing is certain.  You could rephrase it to say the only thing that is permanent is impermanence ~ either way, it’s the same idea.  Life changes and shifts on a daily, weekly, yearly basis.  Relationships ebb & flow, we are each striving to mold ourselves out of deeply flawed putty, working to become our own vision of a well-rounded human.

I am reminded daily that this is an on-going process.

I’ve always had attachments to material things ~ we all have.  I used to wonder if mine stemmed from moving so often when I was young.  The impermanence of home was stabilized by pieces of furniture, a stuffed bear named Rudi (who still sits by my bed, and is in his 27th year), books that have lined my bookshelves in every place I have called home …. So many things with personal meaning, significance.  Living with the man for nearly three years, I’ve learned to spring clean ~ get rid of unnecessary things, outdated things … things that had become, over time, nothing more than clutter.  It is always a little nerve-wracking and exhilarating all at once to send bags or boxes of long-held belongings to Goodwill, or the Salvation Army.  But in the time that follows, I do not pine for that which I have given away.  Material things feel very important until you loosen your grip on the value you assign them.  On the flip side, some things are too personal to me to consider giving away. Will I ever relinquish Rudi Bear?  Probably not.

From another perspective, friendships and relationships change.  Recently, I realized with deep sadness, that someone I cherished for what seems like forever, isn’t the same person I used to know.  Time has slipped by, and life has changed us both.  I think with regret that I made mistakes ~ I didn’t nurture the relationship ~ I took for granted that we would always be close.  I made an assumption that some things were forever… but I should have known better.  Coming to terms with that on the mat seemed fitting.  Relinquishing the fight and acknowledging that one cannot go back and fix mistakes ~ one can only find wisdom in today, and move forward purposefully, within the present environment.

It is so easy to allow oneself to get caught up in the small details of daily life.  I am one hundred percent guilty of it.  Something unbalances my work day, and I twist into knots, rather than stepping back, and trying to gain a whisper of perspective.  When we began class, our instructor asked us to think about the events of the day, but to remove any feelings or emotions from the thoughts.  I envisioned each event in a sterilized environment ~ like scalpels and knives in an operating room.  Clean, unblemished, and nothing more or less than what they appear.

I think that what I came away with is that life will continue to move forward, ever-changing and shifting, as though the ground is never truly firm beneath our feet.  These changes, whether fluid or jarring, are part of life, and whether one allows these changes to affect them individually or in broad strokes really depends on the person.  I have my fingers crossed that as time rolls on, I get better at looking at the big picture instead of all the little pieces.