The strata of life

I have booked a yoga retreat in India, hosted by the centre where I did my teacher training. I had to fill in my current yoga experience details, and the space was pre-filled with my words from 2017. What a blast from the past! I remember being so strung out, so very stressed and wired every minute of every day. I had written that I loved the vinyasa flow practice that I was doing, the fast pace, the vigour of it all. Even the pace of my writing was fast, full of exclamation marks and words tripping over themselves, providing waaay too much information. I could feel my anxiety radiating from every text box.

So much has changed since then. In my early days of teaching I did everything - planned elaborate playlists and complicated sequences, used scented oils and lots of Sanskrit. Sometimes I did Omming and self-conscious chanting. I ticked all the 'what a yoga class should look like' boxes. However, despite all my Type A planning, I very quickly came to understand that teaching real bodies requires more mental than physical flexibility. I began to lean in to the parts that seemed to give the most ease, like simply laying on the floor. I let go of the need to impress with my inventive flows and excellently timed song transitions, instead providing lots of blankets and handing out hot water bottles to soothe and comfort.

Quiet, introspective, supportive yoga can bring us closer to ourselves, whether we like it or not. It is why many people - earlier versions of myself included - prefer a faster pace of practice, one that involves jumping and inverting and sweating and striving, always striving, to attain perfection in the pose. There is nothing wrong with that at all. I see myself in 2017, a bit thin, always rushing from one thing to another, my phone and emails a constant source of pressure, a permanent knot of anxiety tangled beneath my heart. I would use my time on the mat attempting to sweat it out of my body, to try and move fast enough to outpace it, leave it behind. I would lay panting in Savasana, everything aching, briefly softened before contracting once again.

Now, I come to the mat in peace, even on the days when life gets lifey. I sit, I wait, I listen to what it is that I need. I follow my own internal lead, sometimes moving a little, a lot, or not at all. I come to the mat with no agenda, no plan except to be present and honest about my current state. I don't always like the honesty, but I try to be honest about that too. I have no interest at all in performative yoga. All movement has to be in service of my body, to release and soften and open, rather than contort or conform.

As a teacher, I try to find a balance between stillness and movement, often combining the two as breath-centred motions. Open and close. Expand and contract. Push and pull. Roll and release. Always looking for the middle ground, the place of balance, of equanimity. I am learning that often the less said, the better. I leave time for exploration, play, to find what feels good. I let silence linger, leave space to sit in the quiet. Marinate in nothingness, even for a moment.

When I was filling in the form, I almost deleted all my 2017 information. I found it a bit cringey, was embarrassed by my neediness, my desperation. Instead, I added my updated information below it, the strata of my life on display. Hopefully, as the layers continue to build, they bring more clarity, deeper understanding, and the perspective to find humour in this brief pocket of time we call life.

May your own past remind you of how far you have come, and how far you have yet to go 🩷

Much love,

Amanda xxx