As I am visualizing love and healing light all around me, I gaze up, looking toward the front of my mat. I can feel those fears and physical manifestations release. I can feel my back, shoulders, and all other parts of my body opening and allowing the flow. This is yoga.
I realize the entire class is designed for the hips, hip flexors, and psoai. This is my resistance. The resistance of all the sadness, past wounds, and pains of past years, past months, past weeks. Again, I lean into it.
Throughout my practice, my ego is working against me. “This is too hard; you don’t need this!” “The teacher is mean, and she wants to punish you!” “You are better than this, better than her!” “No, you aren't better; you’re worse; you’re broken…” It will tell me anything to get me to quit, give up, run for the hills—to not face my pain, my wounds, my life.
In spite of it all, I continue.
Building now is a resentment against the teacher, the students, and myself. I work through this step by step and pose by pose. I allow myself to feel whatever it is I am supposed to feel, whether that be anger, resentment, fear, or shame.
I finish up my practice with savasana, unable to quiet my mind. But I just keep practicing. Practicing allowing. Practicing nonjudgment. Practicing love and compassion for myself, which is all I can muster.