|

danielle polen
as usual, i've put off writing this blurb until late in the night before i'm to head off on retreat. i suppose i was waiting for something profound to strike me some kernel of insight i could offer to those who would choose to read this. but the simple truth is, i'm tired. bone-tired. not just end-of-a-long-day tired, but physically and emotionally weary, so much so that lately i've felt that i haven't been giving 100% to any of my "life roles."
with regard to my professional life yes, i'm still an effective advocate, but i don't live and breathe the work as do many of my colleagues in the dc advocacy community, and i feel less "on" then i once did. have i lost that fire in my belly? is this the infamous mid-life crisis? or is my lack of engagement merely a reflection of my own personal frustration with our current conservative and xenophobic congress and administration? whatever the answer, the idea of leaving it all behind and holing up in the country somewhere, baking bread and generating my own solar power has become a highly attractive fantasy.
and i'd like to be there more for my beloved dogs, as well. after rushing them through our morning and evening routines together, i sometimes wonder if they wouldn't be better off with someone who could give them acres and acres of squirrels to chase and 24/7 attention. but then i see them turn themselves inside out to greet me, in sheer and complete happiness (even if i've only run down to the corner starbucks for a fix), and i give thanks that we have been mutually entrusted with one another's care.
my yoga practice doesn't always take the precedence i'd like it to when stacked up against the demands of my day job, the physical and emotional demands of energetic naked dogs, and my additional responsibilities as teacher, partner, landlord, daughter, friend. in fact, some evenings it's all i can do to drag myself into a few passive yin postures often, only to catch myself snoring in saddle pose. as a result, i feel that my teaching may not be as inspiring or as mindful as i (and my ego) would like it to be. recently, i've even toyed with the idea of leaving teaching for awhile and simply focusing on my own practice.
but then i walk into one of my classes and see my awe-inspiring students, and i remember how far we've come together. i am humbled to be witness to their grace, beauty and personal metamorphoses, and honored that they trust me enough to allow me to play some small role in that alchemical process. and taking my seat as teacher, i feel fully engaged once again, helping students tease out their edge, or access the courage within to try something new, or simply to stay focused.
and i recognize that, while it would, indeed, be a luxury to have hours in my day to deepen my own personal practice, hours to read and study and contemplate, hours to bake bread and read up on the intricacies of solar-generated power, this moment right here and now is my current reality, and, with a slight shift in perspective, i can appreciate my life for its imperfect state of perfection. i can commit to showing up and being fully engaged, whether at my day job, during a brief 10-minute walk with my dogs, or in the midst of a practice consisting solely of "snoring saddle pose." by offering up everything i have to offer, however meager i might feel that is on a given day, i can experience more fully the benefits of my efforts.
as i often remind my students, yoga can bring about powerful transformation, but only if we commit to offering ourselves up fully to the experience. so why should the rest of our lives be any different? whether you choose to refer to it as living life at your edge or, as émile zola put it, living life out loud, rather than berating ourselves for our inadequacies, we can make the choice to engage fully or not, and, if the latter, accept and take responsibility for the less-than-complete results.
so here i sit, waiting for some profound inspiration, while my partner snores in the room next door, and the naked dogs circle about my feet like sharks, demanding attention. a list of unfinished tasks beckons from the daybook lying open next to my computer. and you know, i really wouldn't change any of this for the world. so if you should hear someone snoring in saddle pose at the back of the studio some evening, know that she's fully present in the moment and giving it her all.
"waking up this morning i smile. twenty-four brand new hours are before me. i vow to live fully in each moment, and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion." thich nhat hanh
|
|