Day 19- Valentine's Day
Saiko always says that you can come into class with the best of intentions-- your mind is in the right place, you're ready and excited to go. But sometimes you don't always get what you expect and it's important to work with what you brought into class. Today was that day for me.
I've known my practice has been going too well for too long and I was waiting for the bomb to drop. This is not the right mentality to adopt, but I somehow knew that today was going to be the day for a bomb of weakness to blow my determination and strength to smithereens and leave me a sweat-soaked lump on my towel.
I arrived to the 4pm class with resignation, irritated by the repetition and annoyed with the prospect of zero reprieve from the temperatures that were boiling my skin. I simply went through the motions and consoled myself that no matter the outcome; class would be over in 90 minutes. 90 long….grueling….miserably uncomfortable minutes. Today was the day that I wanted so desperately to crawl out of the room. It literally took every ounce of discipline in my body to stay put and persevere.
Today, I was Sisyphus. I felt as though the previous 18 days were all for naught. All the wisdom, strength and fortitude I had built up rolled right back to the bottom of the hill. Just as Sisyphus knew his plight was to endlessly roll a boulder uphill only to have it come right back down to the bottom, I knew I had to continue my journey no matter where I ended up. By the time I had reached standing head to knee pose; I decided to give it my all—regardless of the results.
The floor series finally arrived, and I was defeated. My limbs and my torso were filled with wet concrete. In a strange role reversal, I had to become my body’s cheerleader, gently encouraging it through each move. While ultimately I moved at a slower pace, I did manage to plunge deeply into the temporary challenge. I started at the bottom and crested despite the multitudinous adversities with which I was faced.
When practice came to an end, I plopped down, sighed and closed my eyes. I suppose everyday can’t be cake. Without the struggle, success just won’t be as sweet. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.
I arrived to the 4pm class with resignation, irritated by the repetition and annoyed with the prospect of zero reprieve from the temperatures that were boiling my skin. I simply went through the motions and consoled myself that no matter the outcome; class would be over in 90 minutes. 90 long….grueling….miserably uncomfortable minutes. Today was the day that I wanted so desperately to crawl out of the room. It literally took every ounce of discipline in my body to stay put and persevere.
Today, I was Sisyphus. I felt as though the previous 18 days were all for naught. All the wisdom, strength and fortitude I had built up rolled right back to the bottom of the hill. Just as Sisyphus knew his plight was to endlessly roll a boulder uphill only to have it come right back down to the bottom, I knew I had to continue my journey no matter where I ended up. By the time I had reached standing head to knee pose; I decided to give it my all—regardless of the results.
The floor series finally arrived, and I was defeated. My limbs and my torso were filled with wet concrete. In a strange role reversal, I had to become my body’s cheerleader, gently encouraging it through each move. While ultimately I moved at a slower pace, I did manage to plunge deeply into the temporary challenge. I started at the bottom and crested despite the multitudinous adversities with which I was faced.
When practice came to an end, I plopped down, sighed and closed my eyes. I suppose everyday can’t be cake. Without the struggle, success just won’t be as sweet. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.
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