Flower power

I’m in a supported pigeon pose, nicely set up and feeling comfortable in my body. There’s the right amount of firmness in the bolster I’m lying across to allow my body to yield, subtly but distinctly over time. I feel sensations change in my body, a little more stretch here, a slight reactive tightening there… until that too softens into spaciousness. I’m immersed in, and intrigued by, these little details of muscular sensation, it’s so natural as a physical response yet it feels profound. I’m on the edge of some beautiful release…

And then my emotions catch up with the situation and suddenly there are tears running down my cheeks and into my ears, then moistening the cover of the bolster and the cushion I’m lying on. I know this feeling, this emotion. I’ve been here before many times. It feels ugly and raw and I’m nauseated by its persistent power over me. My pigeon threatens to drown in this well of self-pity and loathing.

Then I become aware of my husband breathing.

He’s doing his asana practice next to me; we often share practice space. I have no idea what pose he might be doing, my eyes are closed, maybe my face is turned away from him even. His breath is audible, so perhaps he needs some ujjayi power to get him through. Or perhaps he’s sensed my emotional disquiet and he’s signalling his presence to me, gently reminding me of my own breath and the strength in that.

So I breathe. I use my breath deliberately to calm myself and soothe myself. I remind myself that these bitter feelings will pass and that I can choose not to wallow in them and to follow the narratives down familiar dark alleyways of thought. It’s easy to do that, I’m well practised in that way! But more recently I’ve been learning a new way, more aware of my ability to refocus and redirect, to turn things around through my own awareness and choices. The saying about whichever wolf you feed is the one that grows? Well I realise the opposite can also be said — the flower that you nourish blooms and offers its beauty. I don’t need to keep throwing myself to the ravening wolf of inner turmoil, I can instead treat myself to the uplifting presence of blossoms and summer flowers, imagery of sunlit gardens and birdsong. I feel a little self conscious in this offering to myself, this unfamiliar way of self-care. So I allow myself to be inspired by my teachers. The new teacher has me meditating on flowers right now. And the words from a beloved old teacher come back to me: “turn your face up like a flower to the sun”. I always loved that, feeling like a loved and admired flower — in her eyes at least.

My husband will never know his breath took me on this epic inner journey and guided me back to a calmer place.

As I emerged from my restorative nest of props, bleary and slightly disoriented after a lengthy forward-facing savasana, he looked across at me. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, I am OK”.