The time change gave back my morning practice. I don’t know if it was excitement about my writing group meeting or that the third glass of red by the fire with my husband gave me restless sleep. Either way, I woke early even though I lost an hour in the night. My body was ready; waiting for morning to dawn. I was excited for the meeting but somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I also knew I might get extra morning time, my favorite time, because my kids would sleep until their “normal” time. Lose an hour but gain time…what?
I got up at 6:30, normally 5:30, to start my day. Having gotten less sleep than usual, I was somehow energized. I caught up on blog reading, even watched a portion of an episode of Teen Mom, my most embarrassing guilty pleasure. I noticed a few episodes had stacked up in my DVR and decided to indulge.The guilt may have subsided though because the show really is awful and left me feeling crappy.
Anyway, after my second cup and half of an episode, I shut down the electronics and pulled out my yoga mat. It has been at least three weeks since my last home yoga practice as my children have been waking early and I haven’t had the time. While I love my morning yoga, I am not going to set my alarm for 5am to do it.
This morning felt like the first of my home practice; a bit fumbly, partly due to the bruise on my foot (that appeared out of nowhere; assuming from some warrior poses in Friday’s class), and partly because I am out of practice. I continue my practice at the studios I frequent but my home practice is often where I feel the most meditative. It may be due to the time, the morning hours are the most refreshing for me, or possibly due to being alone. So, considering I felt out of practice, I committed to three poses. With some flow between, I did warrior I, II, reverse warrior and triangle before the bruise on my foot told me to stop. I did a wobbly headstand and decided it was time to just sit.
I sat and sat and sat some more and it was the best sit I’ve had in a while. Once I stopped the conversation of how fumbly I just was and this and that, I breathed. Rather than engage anymore in the conversation, I watched the thoughts and I breathed. The thoughts continued to flutter by, but I breathed and it felt so nice watching them dissipate.
Some mornings, the practice has nothing to do with asana and rather than chide ourselves for that, enjoy the benefit that comes from listening to your body telling you what it needs. That bruise on my foot told me to focus on meditation. Something had been telling me that for a few days but being a stubborn mule at times, I didn’t listen. So, it forced me. And that is where my practice is taking me. There is such beauty in fate; free will is what we do when we listen.