Practice, practice, practice.

Full moon. July is the moon of ripe cherries. If the sustained uninterrupted yoga practice is impossible, what does that say about me who continues to try, try, try? What does that say about me who deems myself failure or not good enough if I do not maintain a schedule that is impossible for me. A friend brought this point up after practice. She said if the practice is impossible that changes things, doesn’t it?

I have not been able to stop thinking about this idea. All of a sudden the web of the practice was even bigger. The striving to create a life, a body, an eating pattern, to achieve a directive that my teacher put forth has been my journey. It has been my mode of self-healing and discovery, yet what if that directive is impossible?

I have been coming to the mat since 1988, yet I have never achieved the standards I perceived as prescribed for success on the path. The listening to myself is part of the practice, of course it is!

When does my life, become enough, as it is? When do I feel tired in my body and over scheduled and then smile about trimming the responsibilities, even if that responsibility includes my time on the mat?

This kindness is self-healing too. When does self-love happen without the background song of, I have not gotten things right, otherwise the trip to the mat would never be forsaken. This pondering has illuminated the expectations and the beliefs I hold dear. If I were good, back bend would be easy! If I were good, I would never miss a day. The koan of the practice is a mystery, it is meant to be.I suppose if I were to think I know, and I always think I know, I would be wrong.

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