day 10. compression and release.

Ron Mehlman, Compression and Expansion, 2000, onyx, glass. Courtesy of the Artist and Kouros Gallery, NY.Photo by E.Berkowit

yesterday was so rough I barely had time, energy or will to write anything. I didn't even publish it until today.
but... I did it.
And, here I am on Day 10.
I actually seriously wanted to get to the studio today. Even though I was draggingmyfeet tired, there was a craving to go. Does this make me dedicated or does it validate that I'm an addict for endorphins? I think it's more likely that I like the experience of waking up without intense pain, having more energy, feeling better and stronger in my body, and having a quieter mind and a more grounded perspective. I am growing a little bit deeper into each posture every day. Some postures I'm sort of back and forth with, but I 'm cool with that. It's two steps forward one step back. I'm enjoying this relationship with myself where I just roll with the punches. It's so very different from my former self taskmasters cracking the whip and shouting all kinds of rude commentaries. This me is so totally chill and behaves more like a compassionate cheerleader reminding me to breathe and smile and be patient. If that sounds a little too pollyanna, I don't quite care. I've walked a very long road (and I have the blisters to prove it) to get to this level of friendliness with me, myself and I. This practice is my daily reminder of how completely good that can be.
The small grievances that I have are just debris that gets flushed out as the channels get cleaner; part of the detoxification process, I guess. It was pretty annoying, for example, to walk into the studio and have to filter out the loud conversation next to me about everything from what those people eat on a regular basis to their disgust with gross jelly beans flavored like cigarettes, tunafish and poop. yes, really. It's all just cocktail party chatter. Chatter. It's talking to talk. I settle with my own internal focus and try to turn my yoga neighbors' discussions into white noise until the class begins. My irritated reaction gets softer and softer.
good.

Today was the first day I stopped trying to count how many postures we have left. I realized it once we were in the lying down series and I didn't know how many postures were left after bow. I think this is progress.

Once we finish the standing series, I always think I've made it. We're nearly done. Then, of course, we get to postures like locust, tortoise (which, with my weak back, has become one of the most difficult postures for me) and camel and I reassess.
After camel, for now, I feel like the rest is a downhill glide.

Interestingly enough, I grumble at the transitions. After doing a posture, then having to lie down in savasana and then sit back up and touch my toes and turn around between each posture, for some reason, really really really feels like a huge effort. I think to myself that I just want to stay put. do whatever posture there is to do and do it. then, do it again. I have a resistance somewhere in me to engage in the constancy of transition.
This
is
interesting
to
me
for
so
many
reasons.

From my SE work and working with Ray Castellino with the pre and perinatal trauma renegotiations, I see that in my life this has been a difficult theme for me. The anticipation of transition and the transition itself provoke (though, less so now) a particular physiological response that is something akin to swallowing a jarful of bees and running a marathon; activating and exhausting. the accelerator and brake all cranked out all at once. not fun.

So, here again, is something this practice is giving to me. All wrapped up in a beautiful bow (sometimes literally) is the physical practice of not only tolerating transition, but the resistant griping of it and the witnessing of how to see the whole practice as a continual and seamless dance, without transition. And, to superimpose this image, this learning onto the template of my own life. If  I truly think of it, every moment, every breath is a transition. Breathing in and breathing out. Filling and emptying.
I think it will be worthwhile to engage this contemplation through the practice.
And, really, the instructor today and yesterday shared that these savasanas, between the postures, are just as important as the other postures. There is a dance of things moving into deep compression and the then deep release. Both edges of the pendulum are vital. This is how the practice changes us. We challenge ourselves to compress into places that scare us, pass our edges, stretch our shapes,  and then we take the time and space for integration, movement and flow to return us to a container that is more open, vast and resilient.
Compression and release. compression and release.