I’ve been crying at everything lately. It’s not because I’m terribly sad, but it isn’t always joyful either. And it’s a little exhausting.
I guess I’m sharing this because most of the time, the things I write about are generally upbeat and positive. Or something happens in my life, related to yoga, and even if it was troubling or difficult at the time, I learn from it and it leaves me feeling hopeful and it’s easy to share. But I’m in a place that doesn’t feel easy. I’m sensitive and uncertain, I’m rebelling against the things that are good for me, and I feel like I’m waiting to know what to do next.
Practicing yoga makes my life better. No doubt. But it doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. It doesn’t mean that there won’t be times like these – times where the predominant experience is something other than unending bliss. Even in the cry-fest that’s going on right now, I’m comforted by the teachings. There’s a way that yoga helps with these times, too. Or maybe it’s better said that this can also be yoga. I can notice and reflect on what’s happening. (svādhyāya). I can make efforts to care for myself in a way that supports balance and attention (tapas). I can trust, that along with the bliss and the joy, this is a worthwhile and important part of my experience. This isn’t permanent. And the result of this experience is more than I can imagine. (Īśvara pranidhāna).
I love you all.