Sadness in Practice
And now the cycle, as it must, has taken a downturn. I am grounded. Heavy. Lumbering through my practice, weighted down with a knotted, gnarly mess of sadness and sensation. Every morning in the dark, the Surya Namaskar are an expression of my sorrow, but this is not to say that the practice has not been deep, healing, and good. The asana are like poetry: great joy and great pain are equally powerful inspiration. In my soreness, I am more connected to my body. It sends me constant feedback. I listen and respond accordingly with subtle, even imperceptible adjustments, always looking for that energetic epiphany that comes when every little thing lines up just right.
I'm glad things worked out this way. I mean that in every sense, but most immediately in the sense that I consider it fortunate that my practice is in a more challenging and real place during these two weeks studying with Swenson. Had things continued to be so uncomfortably effortless, I don't think I'd be as present in the room or as receptive to David and Shelley. Working with them has been wonderful. I feel as though they are truly invested in my practice, not just correcting but encouraging, fine tuning, and guiding me deeper.
I am also glad to be alone. I feel so blessed by the way things unfolded. Not only was I released from a doomed relationship that I might never have had the guts or heart to really end (I tried many times but could never hold my ground faced with so much sadness) but I was also completely set free from wishing things had worked out otherwise. We both changed so much over the years, but I could never see it for what it was until he appeared in a completely different light. He behaved in such a way during the breakup that I harbor no doubts or lingering desires for what we had.
The good times were good, but when he tried to hurt me, I let go of regret like a scalding hot plate to shatter on the floor and splatter bits of beans and rice and sauce from floor to ceiling. A bit messy perhaps, but immediate relief. I'll always be grateful for that. As unfortunate as this may be for the men in my life, I am more romantic about separation than I am about relationships themselves. Had he been civil, had we been kind, I might have spent a long time in the dark wishing for a different outcome, wasting the light of consciousness on regret. It's better this way.
But it still hurts a little to think back on the origins of our love and see the drastic change from that instant chemical bond to the bitter loneliness and aversion of later years. The early mornings seem to bring this stuff to the surface, tender moments past, made even more painful in the soft glow of recollection, whereas in the bustle of the day these pangs are more easily subdued. There are only four more days of morning mysore with Swenson. I am sad for the impending end, but also looking forward to the chance to withdraw to my home practice and absorb the life-changing experience that has been June 2011. I have much writing to do. I can feel it amassing, pressurizing, just about ready to pour out.