I really needed my yoga practice on Sunday morning. I don’t know if it was a side effect of blubbing for most of Adele’s set at Glastonbury on BBC2 on Saturday night but I woke up emotionally frazzled. Nerves jangling; sore and vulnerable.
I knew I needed to do my yoga practice. I don’t need to tell anyone about the known physical benefits of yoga, commonly touted and discussed. What we think of as yoga in our western society actually is just the asana or the poses. In fact, that is only one branch of the eight limbs of yoga.
The longer I practice and the longer I teach the more I realise how far reaching a practice it has become for me. The easiest way that I can explain it is that it tethers me. When I’m feeling shaky and un-grounded, vulnerable and open, nerves on show, sensitive and at risk, yoga is my sanctuary.
I can’t even explain why it helps me in this way. I can’t tell you how it does what it does. I roll out my mat and I breathe and I do poses. I try poses that I can’t do. I feel frustrated. I do poses with ease that I couldn’t do in the past and I feel elated. I spend time with myself and somehow doing that goes around all of my tent pegs and taps them firmly into the ground, stopping my tarpaulin from blowing away in the breeze. I feel calm and whole and grounded again; stable and strong.