There are loads of poses I can’t do. And I know that you’re not supposed to get hooked on the poses but I still want to be able to do them. All of them. Like Meghan Currie or Sianna or Kino or that amazing Ashtangi lady who’s name I forget. And that’s ok. It’s great to be inspired and want to take our practice to new heights. I want to go deeper into my body and my consciousness, venturing further along the path. But I also want to be able to bust out Pincha Mayurasana because it’s a total bitch that makes my shoulders turn into question marks.
And yeah, I probably do want to capture it on camera and post it on my Instagram. I want people to see that I did it. That I can do it. That I am strong and capable and graceful and balanced. Because that is what I’ve always done. Present a version of myself, to myself and others. I didn’t realise that was what I was doing. I just thought I was supposed to be successful by everyone else’s standards and admitting that I couldn’t do something would make me lesser, somehow.
And so this, of course, is my yoga. My yoga is to recognise the portrait that I paint. We are all responsible for painting our own canvas in this life and I want mine to be authentic. I don’t need to be strong anymore and my perception of what strong is has completely changed anyway. I want to be strong by being vulnerable. I want to offer up my falls and failures and frustrations and fuck ups. My nemesis isn’t a forearm stand. It’s my superhero self who thinks she has to work hard at everything all the time to prove that she’s a good person.
We all have different versions of ourselves and all we can do is build our awareness, learn to disidentify with this small self – or these small selves – and tap deeper into something much more powerful. Something that has nothing to prove because it’s already perfect.
Purnoham. I am full.