My boyfriend was home from work, so not wanting to monopolize the living room with the nice hardwood floors, I went into our "sitting room", a carpeted side room off of our bedroom. The sitting room probably has the most warped floors in our apartment...maybe even in the old house (I had realized this when we moved in and tried to arranged furniture...everything looking all lopsided and like it was going to fall over and we had to fix it by putting cardboard strips underneath the legs of dressers and standing lamps--but I had forgotten about this characteristic until I lay my mat down). It took some getting used to, but putting my mat at a strange angle in the space seemed to be the best solution.
I turned on some music and set the intention for inspiration. I suppose I do feel inspired every day...but not enamored by it like I used to. But in order for this inspiration to flow through me and into my students, I must learn how to better grasp it, or, more accurately, let it grasp me.
I did not have any other intention or direction for my practice and so I just moved as I felt inspired. It was a slow flow, moving from down dog first, to ragdoll for ten breaths, back to plank for eight breaths. I did this about five times, stretching my breath as long as it would carry me.
In the midst of this slow flow I realized three things: 1. I can always find inspiration on my mat if I just slow down, close my eyes, and let my body lead. 2. Something I never realized before is that throughout my practice I will say to myself, "stop the struggle". That is when I melt deeper into a pose. It's how I find surrender and is a great sense of comfort to me. And 3. Sometimes, a real slow flow with long breaths is the way to go.
I continued to flow, linking postures and breaths in new ways that I had never done before. It felt good. I concocted a flow from twisting knee down lunge, windmilling the arms up and into a supported backbend. I studied the breath and how it felt best to inhale and exhale with these movements.
I stood up and despite the warped floor I did a long balancing sequence. I connected to my core. I realized another thing I say to myself in my practice. The moment I feel that tipsy feeling like I might fall, I say to myself "I can do this", and I do. In that moment when the mind has a choice to freak out and say "no no no!", years of practice (and muscle memory) have helped my mind to say very calmly, "yes, I can do this". I believe it, and so I stay. It's very simple.
Sometimes the best practice is at home by yourself where there is no one telling you what to do or what to feel. It is just like a poem: creativity within structure. The creativity is your mind and your practice, the structure is your mat. It is an opportunity to really listen to your mind and understand, maybe for the first time, the subtle words you speak to yourself when you practice. It is a chance to be inspired by the simplest things--by the only things that are truly with you for the entirety of your life: you body and your breath.
