Namaste.
When I reflect back on the last four months, all I see is change. 115 days ago I got laid off from my job. 79 days ago the love of my life came back to me on a horse (ok, in a limo). 53 days ago I reignited my journey to health inside and out. 44 days ago I started a new job in a new industry.
The experiences individually and cumulatively have been overwhelming to say the least. Simultaneously, I’ve also been punishing myself, metaphorically and literally, in several areas.
Pounding my knees against rubber tread in hopes of morphing into a legitimate 10K racer by March, while also shedding holiday weight gain, has been painfully taxing. On Monday I attended the scheduled once-a-week complement to my heel-toe cardio — Spinning class, which is always torture; complete and utter insanity. I measure my success on the amount of sweat that beads off my body…and this week my bucket runneth over. So much so that when I returned to the gym the very next day, I contemplated skipping the standard slow, sedated jog and go for yet another round in the hellacious saddle.
Not only have I been my very own self-appointed Trainer – pushing my limb’s limits and mentally stretching myself, consistently repeating the mantra mind over matter as if brainwashed…but I’ve also emotionally stripped myself, without even realizing it.
See, my heart guides me. In matters of love, I lead through cardiac signals.
As I was driving to the sweat shop last night to be punished yet again, I had a one-on-one meeting with God, asking Him for guidance in my romantic relationship. The journey to determine if a partnership could sustain another rebirth, after multiple resuscitations in the past, has been the Big (double entendre intended) question for the last several months. All I requested was that His answer to my prayer be loud and clear, black and white.
With my special request compiled and sent out into the holy atmosphere, a few minutes later I was speed walking to find a seat & cycle in place, hoping to shed some backseat cushion. But my Nike’s were stopped in their tracks. A herd of women with impeccable postures waiting to enter Yoga class caught my attention. “Hmmm, maybe that is what I need.” Some deep breathing, silent meditation, and balancing my core could do some good.
Although I’m confident the Almighty Creator’s prominent voice could surely overshadow the bloody-murder screaming coming from a Natzi spinning instructor, I was more confident that the odds of a clear message coming through were stronger surrounded by quiet Yogi’s.
About 56 minutes later, the experience was not at all what I hoped for. I was so focused on the soft-spoken, organic-laden teacher lady calling out unfamiliar named poses and positions, while trying not to fall on my face and forcing my eyes to stop staring at skinny mat neighbor’s ridiculously frail frame, that there was literally no time to focus on my own thoughts. It wasn’t until the last few moments when the lights went off and we laid on our backs stretching that I finally got a moment alone with my mind & spirit.
“Love yourself first. Love yourself first. Love yourself first.”
It dawned on me then and there – holistically speaking, that I need to take care of My Self. I focus so much on others, that I lose sight of me. Protecting me. Loving me.
Taking the time to practice Yoga - a much kinder discipline, which is directly translated “to unite” and is something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time… forced me to recognize that I don’t always have to beat my body up. Or deprive my palate.
Just as our bodies are a temple and it is in our best interest to feed them healthfully through nutrition and care for them physically through exercise, I now know, thanks to an answered prayer, that it is time to begin taking care of my strongest, toughest, most sacred muscle of all. My heart.
