Yoga rut. What could be worse? It’s ranks up there pretty high for me
Try as I may, it seems to inevitably happen. Yoga doesn’t deserve it. Yoga has been there for me at my times of need, be it for the physical benefits I was seeking, for the emotional benefits I was needing or for the sense of accomplishment my ego needed after every class.
Yoga has been there for me through so much all these years and this is the thanks yoga gets??!!
But it’s not you yoga, it’s me. It’s life. It’s schedules. It’s homework. It’s dinner. It’s balancing the weight
of the whole world on my shoulders (not exaggerating, naturally) .
But here I go, standing at the cusp of the ever dreaded funk. What to do? Usually get all funked out. Eat my emotions. Get funked out some more. Eat my emotions some more. Don’t judge me. It’s a common thing.
So that’s my cycle. I don’t usually don’t notice I’m going through it until the heartburn sets in, the yoga poses are no longer calming and I’m going through the “motions” as opposed to flowing through my sequences and feeling them as they were intended. It feels blah. Yoga is anything but blah. It’s the cure to blah! Panic attack. I need my yogi life boat.
Step one: alert Elizabeth
Step two: Shake it off and shake it up.
Research mode sets in. I need a new challenge. A healthy obsession. Nothing will snap me out of a funk quicker than a self imposed challenge.
That’s when yoga books, other instructors, and Google and YouTube hounding take place. Depending on the time of year, my mood, the color of the sky, it never fails but a pose will jump out at me. I pick one and set out to conquer ( aka: make it my bitch).
And the spark is re-ignited.
The focus and discipline (and at times frustration!) it takes to learn a new pose sparks a fire then leaks into other areas of my life. And just like that yoga worked its magic on me once again.
We are reunited and it feels so good!