A very humbling practice started my first full, non-modified practice week back since my hand surgery…reduced to tears during savasana again. I kept waiting for my dog to come over and sniff me or rattle his food bowls commandingly or try to lick me. No dog. No cure. No shot. No pill to take away the shittiness. Now I know why I was practicing so erratically when my father died. I couldn’t handle it. I just keep getting on the mat and honestly, I can’t even tell you why because it feels so horrible emotionally. Just stay here. Hurt. Yoga Chikitsa. Strangely, my flexibility is better and I am less stiff physically. I am puzzled by the lack of physical pain. But emotionally? Hot, gruesome, choking, swampy pain, all in my throat and chest. And meditation is still a non-stop sob fest. I don’t even fight it anymore. I start thinking about how much pain the entire human and animal population feels at any given point in time during a single day on this Earth and it makes me want to implode like a Piscean Black Hole. God, I am so dramatic! I’m laughing at myself as I write this.
Back to the mat and the Slayer Shala of one.