The heat in the room embraces me as I move into different postures. There are days when I find the heat very unwelcome – it’s almost oppressive. In the mornings, the sunbeams spying on us through the windows are a cruel addition to the heat. We start with sun salutations A and B – 5 each, no pausing. I could comment on this seeming contradiction, but I've never thought too closely about it before. Only 15 minutes has passed and already, my body is tearing sweat because of the exertion and the fever of the room.
You should be home tomorrow. A week ago you would have convocated. Even before you left, I already knew what I was going to get you as a graduation present. I remember how much you loved my pen set with my initials on it and tomorrow, I would have presented you with one of your own.
We’ve moved passed the standing postures and we’ve flowed into the primary asanas. These are the most peaceful as the body has welcomed the initial pain. Each movement brings a new fluidity and we proceed eagerly to the next. One of my favourites is ardha baddha padma paschimatanasana. In English, it is half bound lotus – west extension posture. I like it because I used to think it was impossible to bind my body in such a way. The day I accomplished this position was exhilarating.
When you left, I knew there would be a shift in our friendship, I didn’t expect that it would be something even more delightful. We only saw each other twice a year – during winter holidays in July and summer breaks for Christmas. Through e-mails and letters, millions of words that travelled across continent and cyberspace, we developed an even stronger friendship – one that we deliriously loved. You have the most magnificent imagination; that imagination allowed you the ability to move through life so colourfully. You made every moment feel like the pause right before the drop of a rollercoaster.
I survey the room, filled with characters that I would probably never approach outside the Yoga Loft. We’re all different people, but in this instance we’re connected by our breath. In this space, I am not shy in this group of strangers. We’re completely vulnerable to one another; our bodies are twisted in strange positions, and if not done properly, we look a little ridiculous. In this moment, we’re all the same. There’s no energy left for worries, insecurities and judgement. Social hierarchy, racial segregation, and physical appearance don’t exist in the two hours we spend together.
I miss you. I won’t lie and say there aren’t days when I want to crawl into bed and hide with a bottle of gin…if I knew what gin actually is. This experiment of life continues, but there’s less colour. Kathleen says to take comfort that it hurts because it was so good.
We're in navasana for the fifth time and I'm dying. I rock precariously from one side of my tailbone to the other.When the class exhales, in unison, into padangusthasana, it sounds like the room itself is breathing.
Our joint birthday party is creeping up uncomfortably close. To be honest with you, I'm a little bummed about my birthday. I don't want to celebrate without you and I know you'd be mad at me if I didn't do anything. I just...don't have the heart.
He finds me struggling in janu sirsasana C, one of the poses I wish I could avoid. He firmly presses my knee to the floor and my chin to my shin as visions of a torn meniscus hobble around my head. "Both hands!" he says, when I put an arm out to steady myself. "At least try to do it," he says, and I oblige. It seems like a good lesson, along the lines of "practice and all is coming". Rameen tells us, "Don't waste your body."
I promise to uphold tradition and walk during the first snow storm of the year. we've done this for so many years that there are times when we didn't feel the need to talk. We'd enjoy each other's company, enjoy the graffiti the Christmas lights cause on the snow, and listen to the swishing of our winter jackets and the crunching of our shoes. As we grew older, these walks became very short lived because it was much more appealing to sit in the heated car with a mug of hot chocolate and cookies. I can't remember the name of your car. I know it'll come to me, but for the moment, I wish someone else knew.
To Rameen, yoga is bridging the connections between the external life and the internal life through the system of Ashtanga yoga. He is fascinating because his life has a wisdom and refinement that appeals to me. And he is happy. Rameen is a happy guy; I wish I were that happy. One time, I asked him for advice. He said, "I don't think meat is healthy for you. I eat a lot of fruit. I think that's important." He also says, "I stay calm. That's very important." But Rameen didn’t tell me how to stay calm. And because of forced transitions in my life, I was a wreck. As I put more concentration towards the physical aspects of my yoga practice, my mentality shifted and I learned the importance of living without judgement, assumption and overreaction.
5 months ago, you were on the mat beside me. I came home and decided to make cookies. I should have learned from my pancake experiment that baking wasn't going to be successful for me today. I made two batch of cookies. One batch had half a cup of salt in it instead of sugar; the other had more chocolate chips and skor bits in it than cookie. I thought about you all day - but I still had a good day. I'll admit that I lost it a little when Coyote Ugly came on tv and the end credits played your song. And I could hear you - Oh, Jawyce! All I can say is, I love you Sawah.
My entire day leads to the moment when I step onto my mat and freeze frame the frenzy. Everything that surrounds me is pushed aside for that moment of moving meditation. We still need to look to other elements for support - but they can only help you so far until you have to start helping yourself. We look too much to the external and not enough at the internal – and for me, that’s it.
posted by Joyce @ 10:51 PM
1 Comments:
*sniffle*
Post a Comment
<< Home