Two years ago, I couldn't hold a wheel pose for five seconds without falling out of it. I could touch my toes and stand on one leg, but awkwardly and with no finesse. I was OK at yoga, but lacked any basic concept of what it meant to be a yogi. And when I started a regular yoga class at Go Yoga in Harrogate, I was convinced being a yogi meant you were able to do the most complicated pose with ease, and standing on your head came as easily as drawing breath. It didn't take me long to figure out how wrong I was.
Cut forward six months, and I'm the girl at the back of the class with every muscle wound tight as a watch spring, angrily reciting to myself 'inner peace, inner peace...' whilst wondering to myself why on earth I didn't feel peaceful. Where was this 'zen' that other yogis talked about? Why was it avoiding me, what was I doing wrong? I still felt tense and wound-up, and after a class I sometimes came away more frustrated with myself than before. I could now do a pretty bloody good chakrasana (wheel pose), my warrior was always on point, and navasana (boat pose) felt like a breeze. Surely that was enough?
It was during one of those 'why isn't it happening for me' moments that something clicked into place. I was working long hours, very stressed and very anxious about a lot of things in my work and personal life, and while seeking solace from that stress had driven me to yoga class, it was preventing me from reaping the benefits. I wanted an instant fix, something that would change my life in a 60-minute class, and that was never going to happen.
You often hear people refer to their 'yoga journey'. I'm one of those people. I don't believe that yoga is about the asanas, about achieving that horribly complex pose, or about coming out of a single class thinking 'Yes! I've cracked the meaning of life!' Yoga for me is an integral part of my life, which helps me to channel everything happening externally into my practice, and that practice doesn't switch off the moment I roll up my mat. It's not a cut-and-dry experience of 'I've achieved that, now time to move on'. It's an evolving practice, and that practice changes every day. Yoga for me is personal; I don't really take note of what anyone else is doing on their mat, because their practice is different to mine. Yoga helps me unwind, helps me work through problems, and helps motivate me. It feels amazing when I manage to do something I've never done before, an achievement, I'm not going to lie about that. But the feeling that comes from being able to really sink into a posture or commit to a period of meditative breathing surpasses that excitement.
Yoga is a constant in life, but it's also constantly changing, growing and developing with you as a person, and providing something stable and comforting to focus on whenever you need a little help. It keeps you fit physically, but that's just the start. The mental and spiritual health that comes with a consistent yoga practice is incomparable.
Yoga is a constant in life, but it's also constantly changing, growing and developing with you as a person, and providing something stable and comforting to focus on whenever you need a little help. It keeps you fit physically, but that's just the start. The mental and spiritual health that comes with a consistent yoga practice is incomparable.
Yoga started as a hobby, and is fast becoming a way of life. I'll finish up this post with a quote from a man I admire an awful lot, and I was privileged to attend one of his workshops earlier in the year:
'You think that getting your leg straightened whilst sitting down like a cover model makes you all clever and spiritual? No, it doesn't. Do whatever makes you happy, that's true yoga. We have to live ruthlessly, without fear.'
- David Sye
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