Yoga practice as a band aid

I have been touched by some expressions of care from readers following some recent posts where I've been confronting the fact that practice isn't always an uplifting experience and can be downright troubling. Blogging about personal experiences -- like yoga itself -- is a bit of a leap of faith. But if I'm finding something... Continue Reading →

Sunday is not the day of rest

Before Yoga found me and took a hold of me Sundays meant this: a lazy lie-in, followed by a cooked breakfast (with lots of bacon!), an afternoon nap, and then a slightly miserable evening involving alcohol in an abortive attempt to avoid thoughts of work the following morning. OK, so this is a slight exaggeration or simplification,... Continue Reading →

Rollercoaster yoga

Practicing feels like a rollercoaster ride at the moment. One minute it's all hand waving and goofy grins, shrieking with excitement. The next my stomach drops out and I'm white-knuckling in fear, barely able to breathe. And then up and down again. Each practice unpredictably a peak or a trough. Because despite this disorientating unpredictability I keep... Continue Reading →

Catharsis

A wound that was left untended for years festers out of sight, pus-filled and infected. One day you unwittingly prod at it and find you take some strange pleasure in the discomfort, in really feeling the hurt as you probe how deep it runs. It opens up, spills out a little -- and it's messy. But there's... Continue Reading →

Alive today

I don't think I've ever opened my eyes in śavāsana before. I did today. I suddenly realised I was looking at the ceiling and the dimmed lights above me. A weird out of body experience where I was acutely aware of my body lying there, vulnerable and open, melting into the mat, taking up the space... Continue Reading →

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