Imperfect Practice

I’m out of practice.

The culmination of my yoga teacher training coincided with the start of my new job. I went from practicing nearly every day to trying to squeak in an hour or two over the weekend. At first, I gave myself a break. I, a person whose old job supported going to bed at 3am and waking up at 10, had gotten into worse habits in the several months between jobs. It was not uncommon for me walk my dog at 4am so she’d let me sleep until noon. So, I had a lot of adjusting to do to get myself up at 6:30am. I was also commuting an hour each way. Thank goodness for the company shuttle…to have me driving in the morning was an endangerment to everyone on the road, as well as any nearby trees. Then it was the job itself. Working from home for a single person is nothing if not quiet. Especially working in the digital world, where 80% of your interaction with your coworkers is online. My dog developed a tendency to whine when she heard me talk on the phone. Moving from that to a desk in an open floor plan and running around from meeting to meeting took some getting used to. Not to mention trying to navigate through the strange naming conventions in the vast office complex in which I work. Try looking for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire or Murder on the Orient Express on three hours of sleep. My feet, used to house slippers, still won’t forgive me for shoving them into heels and running around trying to find Cheerios one memorable day (it was down the escalator near the coffee bar). Needless to say, I hadn’t much energy at the end of the day for finding my way to a yoga class. Ironically, this is exactly what I needed the most.

But it has been two months. I should at least have a home practice of some sort, right? It’s not like I’ve been able to work in a single dance class over the past three months. It’s not like my social schedule is peppered with dinners and dates every night of the week. It’s not like I’ve been taking my dog on long walks in the park to get at least a little sun and exercise. It’s not like I’ve been doing anything useful like finishing my 50 page yoga take home exam or going to Motorcycle School (I want a scooter). So with most aspects of my life on hold during the week, you would think I’d at least be able to find my way to squeeze in a few sun salutations. Nope. And believe me when I tell you my hips don’t lie. Tears welled up when I attempted double pigeon on Friday. Breathing into that sensation was harder than balancing on my hands (which I also haven’t been able to work on).

The old me would beat myself up over this. A lot more than the strong twinges of guilt that plague me now. But I’m trying something relatively new to my relationship with myself. I’m trying to accept, understand and being happy with the small or the short. One or two yoga classes over the weekend? It works for now. Maybe I can do Gomukasana (for my hips’ sake), a twist, and a headstand before bed a couple of times during the week. Maybe social plans are ok if they are just during the weekend but maybe I can invite a friend to walk the dog with me one night a week. Or pick up the phone and catch up with one of the ones back home. Mini vinyasas to work in what is good for me because it feels good for me. This is my practice. My yoga.