Grown-Up Yoga

I “thought” I got it. (Such an intellectual whiz).

This is the life-plan for right now?

This “pose” – for days on end?

Sure, no problem. Just place mat on the floor, position the body and focus….

And…

we’re falling.

Because I’m terrible with anything that even rhymes with Yoga. No matter how much I played the part with great tops from Prana and Lululemon pants – I was just a wannabe. The surrender of sitting still when ego says ‘that’s enough’ trumped every time. I went distance running for a reason. Let. Me. Move.

But God, family and friends weren’t kidding in September of 2012. Jennifer moved back home for lots of important reasons and running a 1/2 marathon wasn’t one of them:

Be with the heartache, the loss. They said. Be with the magic. Be with your girl. Be with yourself and a new job that offers different dividends. See the gift.

New beginning on all fronts? I got this. Brave face forward. Adventure: my name.

But that’s not what *this is. There’s no Reaching-For-Fantastic but rather I’m Anchored-to-The-Center-of-Stillness. And it’s not pretty. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I’m terrible at it. My attitude needing constant re-adjustment. I feel vulnerable *all *the *time.

Today I came home and broke down in tears. Not poor me tears. More like, I-can’t-hold-this-stillness-any-longer kind of weeping.  A general, pitiful whine.

Sigh.

This is the juncture of true surrender and commitment. The axis point of sacrifice. The thing my friends talked about when they described what’s *hard. It’s not the duty itself, but a tenacity to stay the course when old habits bang around in your head like disorganized sirens: Dream a different outcome. Change up your life so it fits better what you deserve. Blah, blah, blah: stop. Shhhh. Be quiet. Be gone. When the going gets tough – I’m not running towards ego’s gratification anymore.

I hear Mother’s voice. She’s coming down the stairs with sweet girl in her arms. I wipe the indulgent tears away and reach for my infant daughter. Sedona-Grace buries her slobbery little face into the crook of my neck and gurgles with delight: joy indescribable.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

And…

We’re holding.

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