magic carpet ride

Me, Careyes, Mexico, credit: Jennifer Graham, www.jgrahamphoto.comSomething my sister posted to Facebook this morning on her Yogateau account made me miss yoga so much that I cried.  I wasn't even halfway through my coffee yet, the day had barely begun, and there I was, tears. 

Since Yogateau is all about yoga, of course it made me think about my long-lost practice and miss it with a sharp ache on top of the enormous pain of first-waking (before the meds kick in and allow me to sit in this chair without grimacing).  But today there was more.  Martine had written something about "opportunities to get on your mat and see what unfolds," introducing a series of workshops in Paris this week.  And now I can't stop humming this refrain internally: unroll the mat, unfold the self, unfold the mat, unroll the self.

Oh, how I miss the lather-rinse-repeat of yoga, the way the consistent participation in a sequence of poses miraculous unlocks, unhinges, ultimately frees the mind, liberates the body.  Miss it so much.  I miss being able to move, I miss my friends, I miss the shared experience of being in the studio together, I miss that sensation of everything coming together into one happy buzzy feeling of connection to myself, to others, to everything.  From that place, I can see clearly, I can see far and wide. 

Yoga is a magic carpet ride.

How cute that in French the name for the yoga mat is tapis, carpet.  So of course I went to magic carpet ride.  

Not cute is that this is the longest period of time since I started practicing in 2003, on my 40th birthday, that I have gone without practice.  I haven't attended a single class in all of 2012, the entire year so far.  Most of the time I try not to think about it.  The pain of this injury actually helps with that, since my focus has narrowed to ensuring that I keep that pain at bay, that I not let it shut me down completely, rob me of more things that I love.  But this morning I miss yoga keenly.

What's crazy is how much the yoga I practiced has changed while I've been away. An enormous earthquake, a man-made cataclysm, occurred in my yoga, Anusara yoga, so that when I return, nothing will be the same.  I'm looking forward to returning -- although right now I just feel so lost inside this injury that I don't know when a return will ever happen, feeble stomp of feet, fist shaking at sky.  It'll all be different, so I need to work on this expectation of going back to what I love.  I'll actually in a lot of ways not be going back, but going to something different and new  What was is gone.  

credit: www.kimbawlion.comWhen I was a kid, I remember the sharp disappointment of realizing that when you turned the tv off mid- program, say midway through Kimba the White Lion after school to go do whatever homework is assigned in 1st grade, that when you turned the tv back on, the show didn't resume from its stopping point.  Years before its invention, I was dreaming of the DVR, apparently.  

It took a little while for this to sink in, I think, this idea that the programming just went on without me, that whatever adventure Kimba was on concluded whether or not I was watching.

The show went on.

Clearly I need to go back and re-watch this series given this almost breathless description of its story:

Kimba The White Lion is a wonderful, captivating series. When first shown in America [1966], it was praised universally for its stories of love, compassion, and strength of character. For me, the most wonderful thing about it was its message of understanding for all life, for the need for unity between humans and animals. Kimba The White Lion has a heart and soul that has awakened and strengthened a love for animals in millions of people. This is a show that deserves to be seen by every person in the world.

 Wow, maybe this is where my Doctor Doolittle-ism comes from?

This morning I am really acutely aware of how long it's been since I had my life together, how long since I was free to unroll my mat and unfold me, since I could move without pain, stand on my hands, laugh and work and take a ride on the little magic carpet.  What I wouldn't give to be on it now, this week, with my friends alongside, surveying the glorious landscape of who and what we are.

Damn, being injured just blows.

For the moment, I'm just taking that ride on my own, in my head, since my body can't take me there.  Sometimes I think this is the hardest yoga of all, accepting my own physical limitations now and moving on, using my mind to do what my legs used to be able to handle.  It's a whole different ride, one I take alone, mostly, one I should be used to but one that pains me greatly this morning before the sun is even up.   

I know that when I am finally able to return, to rejoin my people in class, the show will have moved on.  Kimba will be on some different adventure, and I'll do my best to fill in what I've missed while I was away, doing other and necessary work.  

Mostly now I'm trying not to be sad, trying to see what's good in this experience of extended pain and limited mobility, dreaming of when I'll be able once again to kick up into handstand, trying to see the world from upside-down right now even while I can't.