Back to yoga

Photo credit: Booker T. Sessoms 2024

These past two weeks, I did not practice any yoga. No asana, no pranayama, no meditation. It is the first time this has happened in over 5 years.

There are reasons, of course. I was busy and staying in a cabin without running water where even finding the time to wash was complicated. I got sick. I lost all energy. I needed to sleep.

But it takes a toll. Yesterday, as I was digging myself out of the third or fourth Covid fog to move again, I felt both immediately at home and removed from my body. As I moved through familiar shapes — salabhasana, virabhadrasana, bakasana — I felt like I was returning after a long journey. Dust on the shelves, rickety chairs I’d forgotten needed to get fixed, familiar stains on the table. It felt strange and not-strange at the same time. It felt like I was finally me.

When I don’t do the work to connect to me, there is a separation between my body and my brain, and in that separation I lose the ability to pause and truly listen. This is not a revelation. I know this. I have known this. I knew it even as I decided to take a nap every day this past week instead of moving with my breath.

What is new(er) is the fact that I don’t beat myself up over the choices I made. I know why I prioritized community and rest over bodily connection. It was the right thing to do. And now, it is time to move again.