A Narrative of Ease

I was messaging a teacher recently about her upcoming classes and workshops as I tried to decide which to attend: should I make a weekend of it, involving intercity travel, and overnight accommodation for a two day teachers course which would be very worthy and useful? Or should I just pop to London for a general extended afternoon class, just for me? “See what feels right and is easeful” was her advice. Oh! Well, that would be an unusual decision-making basis for me, but I took the point. We were talking about restorative yoga after all 😉

When we next met (yes, in London for the simple class!) I told her this was the most helpful and eye-opening teaching I’d received from her. We giggled, sharing the knowledge that you can spend hours putting together a top teaching plan, a wonderful theme full of glorious insights and wisdom, and spend the time physically in the room with full presence, supporting the students with gentle assists… and still the teaching that lands most deeply is the WhatsApp message between times 🙂

And truly the class was lovely as I knew it would be: the theme was profound, the assists were gentle and nurturing, and my sense of being welcomed touched me deeply. I got a hilariously modern-style hug when I entered the room — we just mouthed greetings and happiness to one another as she was already miked up for the zoom participants (that’s post-lockdown yoga for you, still!). But her obvious joy at my presence was really touching.

And actually the most profound teaching for me was her repeated reminder to feel into each pose as we experienced in that moment. “Forget about the narrative,” she insisted over and again. And I needed each reminder. So often I fall into expectations based on old ‘data’, a time of fear, vulnerability, and pain. Those experiences haven’t left my body entirely, there’s still a residue at some level, but they’re not my dominant physical experience any longer.

Yet I find it hard to listen afresh each time, to greet each moment with an open mind, to be in the present rather than in the past. I know that I must train my attention to rest on what is actually happening, not what used to happened. The stronger your focus on something, the more it will manifest. If I can train it away from the past, I hope the past will haunt me less. That saying about the wolf that grows is the one you keep on feeding…

I’m learning to notice these mental habits as just how the brain works. The theory of neuroplasticity gives me hope that I can rewire my focus. And the method is through practising greater compassion to myself and understanding of the needs of my ‘inner child’. Just as I experienced in the summer a feeling in my body of joy and safety that was previously unknown to me, I’m now learning how to recognise what ease and welcome feel like. As felt experiences, not intellectual constructs. It’s all kind of fascinating and wonderful. Provided I stop reading the previous chapter, ignore the old narrative written there, and stay in the present moment.