As you all know, I’ve been feeling under the gun lately. Like all of us, I’ve got lots of irons in the fire, and worry that I “should” be doing more towards my goals. Last week, I shared that I had finally decided to release that pressure. That I decided to savor where I am and surrender to the plateau, that juicy experience of being between intense phases of growth and development. It was a solid decision, a powerful declaration of intent and, it turned out, a largely mental exercise…
In the wake of my plateau insight, I expected to feel relief. Yes, there would still be the daily experiences of and responses to Life, but mostly I expected to feel the absence of all that pressure. What I actually felt was buzzing in my belly, prodding at my back, tension in my jaw, and an overall sense that my body was being squeezed. In short, I felt under pressure.
Still.
Again.
Intermittently, thank goodness, but more often than was comfortable. Puzzled by this persistent unfolding, I returned to my intention:
My belly would start to buzz and I’d respond to it by reminding it that we were relaxing and enjoying the plateau.
I’d become aware of tension in my jaw and a story loop about the jewelry business and remind it that we’re relaxing and enjoying the plateau.
I’d notice myself rushing through the morning to get to the afternoon and pause to remind myself that we’re relaxing and enjoying the plateau.
Over and over again, I returned to my intention. And I reminded myself to be calm. Exhale. Be calm. It’s okay, you’re okay. Be calm.
It was a good practice. It was a solid practice. It was also, I’ve come to realize, a completely insufficient practice.
In this case, setting an intention was necessary–completely necessary–but not sufficient. It wasn’t enough to complete the mental exercise of deciding to be on the plateau, I was going to need to embody it. And The Magic of the Universe being what it is, the book that I’m reading this month is full of timely, relevant loving wisdom–thank god! The book is Tara Brach’s Radical Acceptance and two of its principles stand out here:
1. Being in your body
2. Taking refuge
Being in your body is just that. Being aware of your moment-to-moment physical experience.
Our bodies are such exquisitely tuned receptors, not just our “higher” sense organs in the brain but also the massive neural networks in our heart and gut. They are constantly interacting with our internal and external environments, gathering data, crunching data, and sending the resulting information to our awareness for processing. The first part of being in your body is, of course, (re-)learning to hear and understand those messages.
I feel comfortable that I have a solid handle on being in and listening to my body. It’s a skill that I’ve cultivated through my work with horses as well as my acrobatics practice, honing my sensitivity and awareness. And as I shared above, I am very aware of my physical experience of the plateau. And that was the “problem.”
Although consciously reconciled, I clearly still have some subconscious questions about this whole plateau thing. And my experience of those questions was not so pleasant. And my initial, reflexive response was to tell the unpleasant sensations to go away. Like an adult trying to subdue a group of rowdy teenagers, I pointed insistently at the “Shhhh, Quiet Zone” sign on the wall while exhorting my feelings to just behave themselves (insert foot stomp here, but only if you want the fully authentic experience). And I was about as successful. My feelings paid my words little to no attention, continuing their waveforms with only the slightest regard for my desire that they calm down.
That’s where, thankfully, taking refuge comes in.
As Brach explains it, taking refuge (in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha) is about claiming a
“place to rest our human vulnerability and a sanctuary for our awakening heart and mind.”
Yes, please.
At its core, taking refuge is about saying Yes, which you know is my jam. It’s about saying Yes to your current experience–both internal and external–and then holding it with compassion. It’s about letting everything–EVERYTHING–be just as it is. For me, this new level of acceptance has started on my mat:
Letting my chest be a bit above parallel in triangle pose because right side body feels tight (when it should feel and look the same as the other side)
Letting my left knee bend in pyramid pose to accommodate my hamstring (when it should be straight because it was last week)
Letting my chest be upright in upavista konasana so that my spine can be in integrity (when I want to be able to fold forward all the way like the pancake girls)
Letting my feet be wide and my knees soft in uttanasana (when they should be together and straight, respectively, because I’m technically flexible enough to fold in half)
Noticing the sensation. Noticing the urge to push through it to “fix” the asana. And choosing to accept the asana I’m having right now. This, of course, is the point of yoga. But lulled by years of practice and a thorough understanding of my physical capabilities, it’s easy for me to get lazy about paying attention to what’s really going on in every practice from moment to moment. And, easy to get caught up in the mental picture of what my practice should be based on what I know it can be.
Instead, I’m now exploring the idea of taking refuge in my asana practice. Engaging with asana in a way that creates a sanctuary for my body-mind. A place where I accept myself exactly as I’m showing up and then observe how things unfold with open, agenda-free curiosity.
Interestingly, this approach doesn’t leave me feeling calm.
Rather, it opens the door to something far better-feeling and, I believe, more useful: spaciousness. In the quiet after my asana practice yesterday I sat on my mat and felt more connected, more grounded, more open than I have in weeks. I felt my chest expanded, my belly softened, my entire body receptive. Taking refuge is about laying claim to a spiritual space big enough to hold and accept any and everything that is going on in my body-mind. (Side note: I’m looking forward to playing with it in my running practice also.) Hold and accept. Any and everything.
That buzzing in my belly (which should have been banished)
That tension in my jaw (that’s inconsistent with me decision to be calm)
That prodding at my back (that I shouldn’t be feeling)
I can acknowledge all of it and breathe into it as it is, confident that my heart has more than enough space for it, that the heart of the universe has my back, and that everything is unfolding perfectly.
So, I ask you, how can you be more in your body today? And how will you support yourself in creating a refuge for your authentic, embodied experience?
Fierce Whisper 