Soft + Slow = Strong
My children often have the greatest wisdom for me. One wise daughter helped me reframe some huge life challenges last year, when I was lamenting about how hard things were and wondering why I couldn't make it better. She encouraged me instead to focus on how brave and strong I was, to even face such difficult times.
When I shared this nugget of insight with yoga friends at a cozy dinner recently, I got teary, because I realized how we all need this recognition right now. The whole world can feel like it's a runaway train, full of innocent circus animals, careening into former pillars of stability, leaving us distraught as we seek some ground on which to stand.
You are so brave and so strong.
Whatever you're facing right now, it's layered up, like a kid's cup at Menchi's, with so many extras you don't need, things that might've been digestible separately,
but in this combination and quantity, will likely overwhelm your resilience and make you sick.
Rather than toughening up and showing your strength in a flashy, superficial way, could you consider slowing way down, softening and engaging in some gentler practices?
This morning I took class from Djuna Devreaux, a beloved teacher on Orcas Island. Our whole practice was from Tias Little's SATYA teachings (Somatic Awareness Training for Yoga Attunement) .
If you've taken my classes, you have experienced this approach, maybe most easily recognized as the somatic work we do at the beginning of class, on a blanket-covered mat.
The intention is to become receptive in a deeper way than we ordinarily do.
We get caught in the catastrophic, kaleidoscopic maelstrom of the mind and it sweeps us away, out of the moment.
We must initially come back into the body, and ideally, the body at rest.
Read this next section, then step away from your screen. Create a comfortable, warm place on the floor, and lie down.
Just feel your body, letting the weight release on to the floor. Stop trying. To become strong we need first to be soft, slow and gentle. Think of the way a tiny puppy first moves - with eyes closed, small movements, then resting.
Coming back to the present also means the breath: the prana- or life-body. Can you pause now, and just feel your breath, for even one cycle? Try to cover each breath with awareness, as if it were your first, or your last.
You might stay here, reconnecting with the miracle of being alive, right now, despite the endless parade of trauma and disappointment marching by.
This is enough.
You are so brave and so strong to step away from the arrow slit in the castle wall, to rest your vigilant eyes, your perked ears, your battle-ready muscles.
Your practice of receptivity could also include some movement now. Listen, feel and respond. What does your body want and need right now?
Disregard the urgent alerts about building muscle or competitive Wordling or emptying your dishwasher.
Returning to yourself through body, breath and mind is the route to the subtle body. This inner life is the seat of wisdom and intuition. Move slowly, sliding and rolling, stretching and bending. You have wisdom to express.
You may have heard me say this already, but every yoga posture was made up by a person. You're a person and you have permission to make up poses. Start now.
From here we build our true strength. Only on a foundation of calm resilience can we truly show up. Take another snow day, maybe called it your NO day, and relax into that self that's been waiting for you.
