Photo by Hans Vivek on Unsplash
There are three things I try to achieve every time I am on my mat:
To treat myself with compassion
To be mindful of the thoughts that come, go, and linger
To embody gratitude
I believe these goals hold the key to living a more meaningful and fulfilling life. Whenever I feel some semblance of all three on a random day, it gives me a little more faith in humanity, a little bit more hope in the future, and a little bit more perspective in all this chaos.
The practice of yoga goes beyond the mat. This can be true of asana. With enough repetition, stability, and physical conditioning, the handstand may serve as a great physical foundation for other sports and general wellbeing. But somehow, I find it much more difficult to bring those principles of self-compassion, mindfulness, and gratitude with me everywhere I go.
The mat is a safe space. My practice is conducted when the sun peeks through the curtains and when it dips to make room for the moon and stars. Having a routine in mind allows me to slip into a frame of mind where I do my best to put my worries and neuroses aside. Though, I’ll be perfectly honest, there are times where rolling the mat out seems exhausting. The most I can do is lie down and listen to my breath, watching my stomach rise and fall. It is difficult to call to mind the same serenity in emotionally distressing situations: when I’m in a fight with my partner, frustrated with my parents, or when it all simply feels too much.
I forget to breathe sometimes. I forget pranayama. I forget to open my chest and un-hunch my spine. And I feel stupid afterwards, when I have calmed down, to have forgotten to use the tools in my disposal.
I don’t feel compassion when I’m staring at my hairy knees in paschimottanasana (seated forward fold).
I ride the train of thoughts that remind me of groceries, what I should paint next, of the outline of this very essay while I’m opening space in my upper back. I complain about the things I lack in life when I fall out of balance.
But once a while, I tell myself that hair on women’ bodies is normal and should not be shamed. I tell myself that I can think about groceries later, I can paint later, and that I can write this outline when I’m finished, not while I use this time to be at home in my body. I will tell myself that I do have balance, it’s normal to fall at times, and that there are so many small things to be grateful for: cooking quick but delicious pasta for lunch, books, leftover birthday cake, the smell of grass after the rain, sunsets, and weird cloud shapes.
Listening to the stories I've written about myself and then having the courage to question them and rewrite them is easier on some days, harder on most. To get to where I am today, Amanda two years ago would consider counselling for the first time. She had to be vulnerable in sharing her negative self perception with her psychology teacher, her boarding houseparent, and friends she could trust. She had to spend hours in quiet contemplation, reflecting on her journal to gain a sense of awareness of her emotions. She endured the highest level of academic-related stress in her life, found herself disassociating, crying in bathroom stalls, and dropping a lot of her extracurricular activities. She would grapple with denial and acceptance for most of her gap year. Finally, she understood the dichotomy of control (what was within her control and what wasn’t). She fell in love with her own fate, what we know as amor fati in Latin.
In short, I became a practicing stoic and student of buddhist philosophies. These teachings have much to offer in terms of living a well-balanced life. A life in which I take responsibility for my thoughts, feelings and actions. A life where I do not dwell on the small inconveniences, rather, appreciate the small pockets of joy that are everywhere. I wish to share more about the specifics of these philosophies, yet I know they are all ingrained in every piece I’ve written for this blog.
And each time I challenge my inner critic, who of course, is ashamed of every single failure that does not align with my goals or principles, it somehow feels more satisfying than defying the laws of gravity. I’m defying the narratives ingrained into me by society. I’m writing my own story when I step on my mat. I may not be able to do it everyday, but I’m getting there. I don’t think I would ever reach a point where I completely banish the self-hatred, the absent-mindedness, or the lack of perspective, because that would mean I would have no cues to learn anything from the world around me. These negative traits are a part of me as much as the goals I strive for.
What I’m hoping is that my practice makes being human a little less difficult. Who knows, maybe one day, I’ll actually be able to hold in my tongue and consider the impact of my words before blurting out hurtful word vomit. I’m already teaching myself to be more patient, to let go of the illusion of always being in a hurry. This is a lot, coming from someone who had chronic impatience. Anything is possible. I just have to show up every single day and commit to my values. Easier said than done, like the instructions on how to stand on your hands.
Love and light, Amanda
28 May 2022
P.S. I would like to add that my journey is unique to my beliefs and experiences. If you want to be a master at arm balances, inversions, backbends, and all sorts of twisty asanas, by all means go ahead. I cannot dictate what is right or wrong for you, only myself. You get to decide what works best for your needs. That being said, please do respect the traditions and origins of yoga and yogic philosophy.
Comments