“There is a wisdom within us that is more powerful than despair. There is a movement toward health that our intellect can merely glimpse, once in a while. It is the same impulse that causes plants to face the sun, animals to take care of their young, people who say “I never sweat,” to try a hot yoga class. This life force has provided us with the priceless, miraculous opportunity of our yoga practice. All we need to do is cultivate an open heart, to express our gratitude both on and off the mat, and to celebrate the return of our hero”. – Meditations from the Mat
What are you so scared of, Alana?
This question itself scares me. To answer this, what will that mean? What will it change? Will I be better off or worse? I can never shut my mind off from observing myself from the outside in. Sometimes, I find my fear so debilitating that it stops me from doing the very action to break the cycle.
What will it take for me to find my hero again? I know who my hero is. Intellectually, I know. It’s me. Everything that I am, everything that I’m not. Everything I need, I have inside myself. I know this. She is my hero, I am my hero. How could someone else be my hero? They did not help me learn to crawl, to walk, to speak, to run, to swim. My body did that, my body does that… is doing that, selflessly for me. Me who wakes up in the morning and shouts criticisms at my flesh, hatred oozing from my pores. Wishing I was different, more of this, less of that. She never wavers though, strong and stoic she stands tall and carries me forward no matter what may be standing in the way. She holds me when I’m crying, curled up in the corner and laughs with me when I’m happy and jumping for joy. Never judging, always loving. Why then do I despise her so?
I catch glimpses of my hero. In meditation, she shows up as a small flicker inside my chest. Doing asana she presents herself in the simplest postures. I am amazed at this, at how much the smallest movement can invoke the strongest sensation. I feel sad that I have spent so much of my life critiquing her, chastising her for not performing, beating her up in hopes that she will obey. All she does is gives and gives, and I continue to steal from my one and only hero. I don’t understand this relationship, and I don’t know how to change it. I feel stuck.
What are you so scared of, Alana?
This question itself scares me. To answer this, what will that mean? What will it change? Will I be better off or worse? I can never shut my mind off from observing myself from the outside in. Sometimes, I find my fear so debilitating that it stops me from doing the very action to break the cycle.
What will it take for me to find my hero again? I know who my hero is. Intellectually, I know. It’s me. Everything that I am, everything that I’m not. Everything I need, I have inside myself. I know this. She is my hero, I am my hero. How could someone else be my hero? They did not help me learn to crawl, to walk, to speak, to run, to swim. My body did that, my body does that… is doing that, selflessly for me. Me who wakes up in the morning and shouts criticisms at my flesh, hatred oozing from my pores. Wishing I was different, more of this, less of that. She never wavers though, strong and stoic she stands tall and carries me forward no matter what may be standing in the way. She holds me when I’m crying, curled up in the corner and laughs with me when I’m happy and jumping for joy. Never judging, always loving. Why then do I despise her so?
I catch glimpses of my hero. In meditation, she shows up as a small flicker inside my chest. Doing asana she presents herself in the simplest postures. I am amazed at this, at how much the smallest movement can invoke the strongest sensation. I feel sad that I have spent so much of my life critiquing her, chastising her for not performing, beating her up in hopes that she will obey. All she does is gives and gives, and I continue to steal from my one and only hero. I don’t understand this relationship, and I don’t know how to change it. I feel stuck.