I finally got the “all clear” from my physical therapist, and I cautiously headed for a yoga class. It’s been over a month since I’ve practiced; over a month since I did an exercise with my daughter that I knew I shouldn’t do. As I lay over the exercise ball at the beginning of December, throwing my legs up behind me, I kept thinking, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
I shouldn’t have.
But I did, and I had over a month without practicing and, as I’ve shared, the good news is I never beat myself up over it. It was what it was.
But here I was, on my mat, hoping it would feel okay. I put the “no assist” sign at the top of my mat, so the instructor wouldn’t help me in any poses. I wasn’t sure what I could do or couldn’t do, and I didn’t want an assist to push me too far.
I didn’t want me to push me too far.
I’ve learned over the years that enough is enough. I’ve learned I’m often on overdrive even when I think I’m going slowly. And I’ve learned – contrary to my moment hanging over the exercise ball – to say no, to step away, to go for adequate instead of more.
And I did. I took it easy – well, a little easy – and eased my way through the practice. And as I moved and breathed, I remembered what yoga brings to me. Focus. Calm. Peace. Connection. Wholeness. Ease.
I walked home from the studio, feeling my body stretched and soothed like it hadn’t been in over a month. The next morning I woke, and I could still walk. 🙂
I’m back. And I’m loving the joy of yoga again.
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