Nairam’s Roads

After my horrible practice on Thursday, I went back to the Shala on Friday and Saturday morning. I made the attempt of sleeping better, and this seemed to reflect on the quality of my practice; the balance started to return and I generally felt stronger. I was, however, not nearly as focused as in past weeks–I could keep the pace of the breathing just right, but often forgot to keep it deep enough; and then I sometimes had a blank mind and could not remember the sequence well. The cause of this sudden deterioration of my practice has remained a mystery for days. Say, for instance, in those weeks I spent visiting my parents during my Dad’s illness–every morning, I would wake up and complete a really thorough, slow, thoughtful practice on a Mexican wool rug that burned the palms of my hands a bit. I didn’t mind this at all and, rather, I was excited with the sensation of that strange, powerful energy that seemed to be flowing through my body.

Not sure if I’m still dealing with the aftermath of my losing my Dad or what, but my focus and my energy have been significantly more erratic since I came back from the Funeral. I am actually coming to think that maybe have some energy stuck inside me in a weird way. I have been grieving, of course, but sometimes I feel as if the length and pain that accompanied my Dad’s last months had forced me to grieve in advance as things got worse and worse, making me get to the end with some sort of resignation, having come to terms with the fact that one could not hope for something better than him having some peace. But I know I’m sad inside, and maybe the sadness has not fully come out yet (I suspect that I have been unconsciously keeping it from flowing, because I am really afraid of falling into a depression). And somehow this is reflecting on my Yoga practice. It is as if I were not connected with myself as I practice, the same way I am not really connected with my feelings…

Perhaps to complicate matters further, since I arrived back home, I have not had much chance to sit, think and feel. Possibly I’ve been looking to evade the sadness, and I have definitely had some help. First of all, work has been busy. And, on top of that, all my friends, in a way or another, have been trying to accompany me and keep me busy pretty much every day. I have had loads of invitations and suggestions to go for a coffee, for a drink, to have dinner, to the movies, to… you name it. I actually appreciate the attention, but at times I find it a bit over-bearing. It’s been non-stop. Example: on Thursday night, I went dancing. On Friday, I went for dinner and to a movie (Mamma Mia, by the way, extremely cheesy but a lot of fun, I admit). On Saturday, I had brunch with some friends and then I had to spend the day getting my house ready to have a friend over for dinner (he wanted to keep me company, and also had gone all the way to the airport to pick me up when I came back; I felt I owed him). Today, I spent traveling several hours by train to go to a friend’s house, to then go and hang out at a pool with her 4-year old daughter.

I’m exhausted. I feel I’m even resenting people’s attention a bit, actually. Say, yesterday as I was cleaning my house to receive my friend, at some point I felt upset with myself for not having the guts to tell him I probably needed some rest and that I preferred to postpone the getting together for the following weekend. He has been a good friend for years-having been there for me during some really tough times, and I didn’t dare to tell him off. In the end, the getting together was lovely, but in the meantime I spent the afternoon mopping and feeling tired and teary, upset because I wanted to cancel, guilty for feeling upset, and driving myself nuts for being so antisocial when people only want to show they care about me. Sigh.

Perhaps it is normal, and I just need to slow down a bit. That’s why this evening I decided to just stay in, have some nice dinner by myself (and with my lovely cats, who I love to death and are so sweet and funny), maybe write, read, watch a nice movie. I have to remember that time to myself sometimes it means time in, to get to be in touch with my feelings. And I should not fear becoming depressed thinking of my Dad.

I am glad that my Yoga practice is such a mirror of my internal struggles. It is as if my soul’s tribulations came out on the mat, for me to observe them with tranquility and objectivity, helping me fix them, helping me help myself. Thanks to it, I’m suddenly more aware that I need to accept my sadness, and that I need to stay more focused on all that’s going on inside me–from my breathing and bandhas to my own feelings.