Not to be “that girl,” but lately, I’ve been doing a lot of yoga. I really got into yoga in India, but about a year ago I found a studio I love in DC (yoga district. go there, Washingtonians) and haven’t looked back. I simply feel better, physically and mentally, when I do it.
The thing I love the most about yoga is that everything is cyclical. When you start a series of stretches, you end in the same posture you began in, and between stretches you enter tadasana, a way to reset your body.
These cycles are comforting because even if you don’t know what is going to happen during a stretching routine, even if your body is all twisted into ways you never thought it could be, you know exactly where you’re going to end up when it’s done.
If only life was that easy.
Right now, my friends and I are in a place in life where we have no.idea where we’ll end up: in the last month alone two close friends got engaged. Others are applying to graduate schools and jobs that will take us away from this city. We’re moving out of relationships that are harmful, or back into relationships that once brought us joy. We are switching jobs, friends, opinions, housing, and then reversing those decisions all over again.
We’re stretching and contorting and we have no clue what part of the mat we’ll end up on when it’s all over. It’s scary and exciting at the same time.
This process is not a good situation for me: I’m not good at not knowing what’s coming next. It stresses me out; I like being in control.
But then, I think about, at the end of a yoga routine, I may end up in the same position on the mat, with my hands and feet in the same place, but my mind and body feel different: I’m looser, focused, and more at peace.
So, basically, I’m the same, but different.
I guess this period of growing pains we’re all going through might take us off the mat, out of the studio and next door or perhaps across the world, but we’re all going to be the same at the end. Maybe just a little different.
The thing I love the most about yoga is that everything is cyclical. When you start a series of stretches, you end in the same posture you began in, and between stretches you enter tadasana, a way to reset your body.
These cycles are comforting because even if you don’t know what is going to happen during a stretching routine, even if your body is all twisted into ways you never thought it could be, you know exactly where you’re going to end up when it’s done.
If only life was that easy.
Right now, my friends and I are in a place in life where we have no.idea where we’ll end up: in the last month alone two close friends got engaged. Others are applying to graduate schools and jobs that will take us away from this city. We’re moving out of relationships that are harmful, or back into relationships that once brought us joy. We are switching jobs, friends, opinions, housing, and then reversing those decisions all over again.
We’re stretching and contorting and we have no clue what part of the mat we’ll end up on when it’s all over. It’s scary and exciting at the same time.
This process is not a good situation for me: I’m not good at not knowing what’s coming next. It stresses me out; I like being in control.
But then, I think about, at the end of a yoga routine, I may end up in the same position on the mat, with my hands and feet in the same place, but my mind and body feel different: I’m looser, focused, and more at peace.
So, basically, I’m the same, but different.
I guess this period of growing pains we’re all going through might take us off the mat, out of the studio and next door or perhaps across the world, but we’re all going to be the same at the end. Maybe just a little different.
1 comment:
love this, Laiah!!
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