Personally, on most days, I take it as an open challenge.
Which isn't particularly handy or obvious for an attempted yogi. I'm generally the sort of person who believes it's up to me to make things happen, that I can finagle and muscle my way into most outcomes. It doesn't always work. In fact, in some contexts, it doesn't work at all, except disastrously, and I wouldn't generally recommend it. Still, I try.
I'm generally a big believer in autonomy and personal accountability. It's why I love psychology so much. It seems to me incredibly empowering to know that while it is difficult and terrible at times to understand what's wrong, it's also in your power to fix, to change, to improve. It's a huge turn-on for me, knowing this, and I base a lot of my life around it.
That being said, I wish I knew a little better when to trust, and how to. The other day, I had an incredibly uneasy yoga session, the hardest I've had in a long time. It was an yin-style, fascia release, which I loved and generally resonate with a great deal. And even though it was on the shorter end of the yin spectrum (only 1.5-2 mins per pose, by my estimate), I struggled with each tremendously.
It was like my body just didn't want to sit still. More, it was actively fighting me on every pose, so that when I forced myself to sit, all sorts of yelps and mutterings would come out. I tend to have an open approach to practicing, so I let these flow freely, sat back, and observed. All this plaintativeness, all this arguing, and for what? For a hundred twenty seconds?
Can be a long time to just sit with your body. That's why we're suddenly so pensive in a lot of these difficult yoga poses. Our brain tries desperately to distract, because as perplexing as some thoughts may be, we're used to letting our brain take charge. We're used to living up there. It's ten times easier to start solving in my head what to cook for dinner, then to just sit in silence and observe my body.
And boy, did it mind this neglect. Even after 12 years of practicing, it takes an active effort to sit myself in a pose and keep at it. For much of my life, I would've just backed out. But now I can't anymore. I've gone past that bridge, and understand there's wisdom being communicated here. In the achings of my body, in this difficulty to sit still, I'm being offered valuable insight.
To leave the pose now would be to interrupt this delicate communication flow. To my detriment, I have no doubt.(Which isn't always a guarantee I'll sit still.)
I start asking myself questions - like why? And what for? Before I rapidly stop. Remind myself it's rude to be asking questions when someone is speaking to you, and that is, for better or worse, what is happening here now. I need to let my body tell me, then later, I may start unraveling in my head what is what. It doesn't always need to be articulated to be true. It doesn't necessarily need words to be of value.
Physically, I am finding it hard to sit still. I find it hard to tell whether I am being pulled in too many directions at once or stretching myself. There's a subtle difference, and it comes back to autonomy. Am I, without even realizing it, making things hard for myself?
My body seems to think so. My body doesn't want to sit still. Which means my body doesn't feel safe sitting still.
Now my goal, now that I've come back to the thinking mind and my practice has ended, is to figure out,
Why? And how can I foster safety for my own self to thrive in?
