Even though I’m the one at the front of the room barking “updog, down dog, now hold plank” with what I’m sure is perceived as a stead fast devotion to our health, I can honestly say that I’m mentally struggling. I’m not a born doer; I’m a born sit-on-the-coucher. I’m a born stuff my face with all of the fatty goodness of ice cream and rot my teeth with pixie sticks and gummy bears kind of gal. I struggle with gluttony so badly that it’s only my vanity that pulls me through sometimes. In short, I’m the opposite of what traditional yoga asks of it’s devoted students.
So, how did the gluttonous sloth choose to make yoga a part of her daily life? It’s probably the same part of my soul that craves junk food and daily soap operas…the need for instant gratification, maybe? So here I am struggling with myself, constantly looking at my phone, counting down the minutes left of my slothdom before I have to go to the studio. (Don’t judge! It’s unyogilike.) Then, it’s a battle of what to wear to class and a rush to the studio.
And I get here. I roll out my mat. I stare at my toes and I take a deep breath. I wish I could say that it’s at this instant my pride in my practice beams through my heart, but really, I just feel my lungs expand with air… Hey, at least I have enough body awareness to notice that. And so I start, I growl to the students, “inhale your arms to the sky.” I cheat. I look around the room and see sets of hands reaching upward, proud and gracious at the same time. I notice the warmth of energy building in my chest again. We forward fold. I touch my toes. I step into my first plank of the day (I never jump… It’s my way of paying homage to my slothy soul.) and it feels so counterintuitive. I should be watching my show right now. And as I hug my elbows to my rib cage and lower my torso to the floor, I exhale. Yes, god dang it, we’re going to pause here, hovering over the floor. Why? Because I LIKE IT and I’m having a moment– all connected to one huge exhale of the day. It’s as if Chataranga is some sort of exorcism and the evil sloth spirit is releasing it’s grip on my heart. And then I gasp for air, my sign that it’s time to inhale into updog, and I suddenly feel lighter as I spread my fingertips on the mat, pressing my body away from the earth, lifting my chest and my pelvis with my own strength, with a surprising ease. Something takes over me… The need to increase this strength, control my breath while I challenge my ability to increase the pace. I hear the sounds of similar experiences next to me and the need to exorcise those slothy spirits takes over. Before I know it, we’re 30 minutes in and the sweat droplets roll off my nose onto the mat. I look down at my toes again, evenly spread, my knees are bent and my seat is resting on the imaginary chair behind me. My legs are screaming at me, but it’s a “we got this” type of cheer and there’s this internal struggle between my muscles and my pride. My pride wins. We hold the chair pose longer, until my thighs are literally shaking before my eyes. And there’s another rush… A rush of pure pride in my accomplishment. It pushes me to find a challenging pose, then another and another. When it’s time to cool down, it’s a race against the clock– how can I get one more feel good challenge pose in before we all leave? Ooh, I have 2 minutes left before I really have to work us into savasana… 8 angle pose, it is. I sink into savasana, the gluttonous sloth defeated by the proud yoga warrior within me.
As my fellow yogis roll up their mats around me, I notice a sweaty glow on all of our faces. Our voices are lighter. There’s no tension in our foreheads. Everyone genuinely seems more upbeat, and I’m inhaling this positive energy that circulates the room. I can now go home. I can now open the fridge and decide to cook dinner that will help feed this positive energy. I can ignore the beckoning of the freezer or the cookie jar (yes, I really have one of those– they should be outlawed). I can make a better choice. Sometimes, this feeling rolls I to the next day, but sometimes that gluttonous sloth sneaks back in while I sleep. If I don’t kick her out immediately, I have to start the whole process again. I have to fight the impulse to feed her and calm her with bad choices. Sometimes she’s strong, but my yoga practice has taught me that my addiction for the positive energy generated from within is stronger. If I let her win, I’m miserable. It’s my own type of withdrawal and it’s a huge struggle. If I feed the need for positive energy though the high stays on, and there is no withdrawal, no wretch into slothdom, and that’s a good day, that’s a great exhale. That’s the perfect release.