The Ominous Fin

I always wondered what it would be like to stop moving. To stay still and not fidget.  There are animals that live their life waiting and in hiding; camouflaged by a shell of strategic colors and patterns, sharp teeth ready to grab lunch once it comes near enough–the animal goes unnoticed until it’s too late for the prey. Or there are animals that are hiding, not to attack but to stay safe. They blend in, close there eyes and hope the long toothed predator passes by with out blinking an eye in their direction. 

Some animals, like sharks, must continue moving in order to stay alive. I read somewhere that in order to breath they never stop moving. The oxygen in the water has to filter through their gills by them moving forward. Always chasing, or running, or just swimming along–they are always going somewhere.

Taking on the lifestyle approach of a shark seems evil. Sharks always play the villain. Movies and television tell us to fear the shark. To steer clear of that ominous fin that, for all we know, could be just going our for a breath of fresh ‘air’. He’s moving. He’s just moving forward to live.  How can we learn from this shark?

Keep moving. Keep going forward. Keep progressing. Keep challenging. Keep trying new things. Don’t fear change, challenge or different scenery.

Breath deep while you’re moving. Sit still and breath in the new experience of meditation. Fill your lungs with the opportunity of holding a Warrior II a bit longer.  Explore the the sensation of a new food rolling over your tongue. Gasp for breath as you laugh the night away with new friends. Love the feeling of crunching leaves under you feet as you walk through the woods breathing in the autumn colors. Move forward. Progress. Enjoy. Slow down.

 

 

Good

I spent my weekend with: Good people. Good conversation. Good beer. Good beaches. Good seafood. Good teamwork. Good sand. Good trails. Good vinyasas. Good work. Good laughs.

Lots of good. Lots of change coming. Lots of good change.

 

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Push

I cried yesterday. It was a good thing I was at hot Yoga and sweat was already dripping down my body, leaking from every pore, soaking my clothes and mat. We were in bridge pose and Jared was making us do yet another one. Knowing it would eventually end we obliged and pushed our hips to the ceiling, breathed in and out. As I watched my rib cage rise and fall I heard Jared say “The pose doesn’t begin until you really want it to end. That’s when you push through. That’s when it begins” (Or something like that, my brain was foggy, my body was tired, but whatever the exact words were, I connected. It clicked.)

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Tears that I pretended were beads of sweat welled up and dripped down my face when I took this yoga advice and connected it to my life. I’ll be honest right now: I’m struggling. I’m 26. I’m closer to 30 than I am to 20 and I have no clue what I want out of this amazing life I have been given. I’m lucky. I have supportive friends and family that are not only cheerleaders but are reality checks too. But having little direction is hard. Right now I wait tables, I helped my friend organize a race that wasn’t quite as successful as we hoped. 

I think my pose is beginning now. I want to give up and let go and lower my hips back to my mat, right now. This, this moment, this year, this time in my life is when I need to focus my ujjaiyi breath, pick a drishti and thrust my hips up, make my arms strong and open up to my full expression. What this means, I don’t completely know–but I’m excited to find out.