real world sh!t – here too

Have you read Audi Moatti’s recent post, “The Real Shit” which appeared on the Ashtanga Yoga Project’s blog recently?  The phenomena of hiding behind an image of perfectly zen ashtanga goodness, real or not, may just be our way of self preservation. Although I have broken into a tearful puddle on my mat many-a-time, this is certainly the case for me. I write this as my own answer to the call to reveal the “real shit” in MY life as JeanMarie did in her brutally honest post, “I am not okay.”

Over the years I’ve been practicing ashtanga, I have traveled through quite a few tunnels of darkness. Yet, admittedly, I do pretend to be okay. I don’t feel that I am unique in my want to conceal those times when I am just NOT okay. But that doesn’t mean that everything is sunshine and roses.

This past month, I’ve been going through some…um…”sh!t” (which I prefer not to post the details of here). This, of course, is on top of me trying to rebuild my yoga practice after my SI joint injury. As a result, there have been many-a-time when I have not wanted to roll out my mat in a room full of unsuspecting yogis. However, I go because….well…it’s what I do. It is my routine. Only those who know me over the past many years, the ones who actually watch my practice, can see that my current practice lacks the joy and ease that it once had.

The rest?

Well, they probably think that I am just lazy or have lost interest in the practice. I have been showing up late and have trouble keeping my breath-movement synched (as any “good ashtanga” would). For me, it is “good” enough that I show up. It’s not that I’ve lowered the bar. Err, perhaps I have. Either way, I am not about to apologize for it; it is what it is.

  • I am NOT perfect, nor do I pretend to be.
  • I do, however, try not to melt down on the mat beside you.
  • Try as I might, I do sometimes do just that.
  • I also try not to let my overly-sensitive self lash out in an act of self-protection.

Although my IG account is filled with flowers, cute dogs, fatty foods, and Spartan racing pictures, I can assure you, everything is not all espresso and orchids in my world — OR perfect ashtangi bliss.

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