I’m having a Yin-Yang struggle today. I want to be practicing my new favorite pose, Blogasana, where I sit cross legged on a firm chair, inhaling and exhaling while gazing serenely at my monitor, as my fingers tap-tap-tap on the keyboard. It is such a relaxing (physically lazy), yet energizing (fun) pose. My mind fills with ideas, even as my wrists start to feel a little tingly and my head aches from the glare of the screen.
Instead, today I am going to practice my most difficult, exhausting, frustrating, and important pose, Mamasana. It is actually a series of poses that begins early in the morning as I stretch my sleep deprived body out of a warm bed to lift my crying two year old out of his crib. I tighten the muscles of my upper body into a big good-morning hug and breathe in deeply to inhale the scent of his shaggy hair. I engage the muscles of my diaphragm to yell at my four-year-old to turn off Sesame Street and come eat breakfast.
The real warm-up begins as I wrestle my boys into their clothes and shoes. I fight back annoyance at the sounds of fussing and fighting, focusing instead on the rhythm of my breath. Too frequently, I lose my concentration and my balance, and crash headlong into cranky-mamasana. I have to remember to breathe, to hold my center.
I root myself down into the floor as the boys jump on top of me and each other, stretching my arms wide to grab the wrists of my little runaways. The next hours are spent in a blur of tantrum-tamingasana, making-lunchasana, cleaning-up-messasana, wiping-nosesasana, changing-diaperasana, and various other advanced mommy poses.
After dinner I bend into a deep squat, contemplating the enormous mess of spaghetti which is carpeting my kitchen floor. Fatigue is setting in, and I wonder if I can find the energy to make it through the last chapter of my day. My boys run in endless circles around our couch, crashing into each other, alternately laughing and crying hysterically. I curl up into child’s pose on the living room floor and let the kids jump over me or climb on top of me, competing for my attention. We play Superman for a good 20 minutes, each boy taking turns flying while balanced on my feet, arms outstretched, chanting “to infinity and beyond!” over and over. Once we are all exhausted, we gather together in meditation, giving thanks for the day we spent together. Then, after both my boys have finally surrendered to total relaxation, I lay comatose on the couch for a few minutes, letting my mind clear, undoing the stress of the day. I am completely worn out and burned out. But, in the back of my mind, I know that I accomplished something amazing. I raised my boys for another day. Tomorrow I’ll do it all again, breathing in and out, feeling gratitude for the chance I have to stretch and reach and grow and balance and change.
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This is genius. Thank you for making the connection.