"From plank, peel your hips up," says the on-line yoga teacher, "and I will meet you in downward facing dog. Pedal it out, then find a moment of stillness."
She tells us at times that downward dog is a resting posture. At least she acknowledges that when she started yoga, this "asana" felt like work to her. It still feels like work to me. In this practice, as she speaks of stillness, my arms start to visibly shake. So much for stillness of the body.
Lately, I am not good at stillness of the mind during yoga practice either. (And as I wrote that, I remembered an essential watering task that I had not done yet today--went off to do that and came back.) Urgent tasks seem to surface as soon as I stop, sit on the yoga mat, and start the video. I push them to the to do list, but these days the worries don't actually leave my mind while I work through cobra and tree pose. Tree pose I manage quite well and the stillness of a tree should help. But my mind is not quieted.
It isn't as if I'm running around a lot. There have not been places to run to, walk to, drive to. I'm not working so there are not a lot of people I have to keep in touch with. I wonder if this restlessness that comes from too much sameness?
In response, I made myself notice, drink in, stillness around me.
On Friday, after the first rain, there was no wind. Mist clung to the trees, sat above the road, wrapped around the houses. A while later, mist rose from the water, filled the air with an opaque veil. Walking down the road, I absorbed stillness.
In the weekend days of wind and storm, the waves of the bay pounded the shore. Even this morning, sudden gusts pushed noisy waves onto the shore. The rocks are rattled around. Then, late morning, the water became still. It is almost never as still as glass out here on the open shore, but the trees were reflected on the water, the rocks on the bottom visible. I breathed in the stillness.
I breathed it out again. Felt the monkeys of the mind take over. Maybe my particular issue on Monday was that I was headed to get my second dose of the Covid vaccine that afternoon. I had agonized over my choices as I got AstraZeneca as my first. For a while, I was determined to get the same as my second dose, leave the mRNA vaccines to those who needed them. But then, it was clear that the vaccine I had received was not as effective with the Delta variant. And I could get an earlier appointment for an mRNA shot. After flip flopping on the decisions and several attempts to book online, I got an appointment in Owen Sound.
When I got home on Monday, the clouds had cleared. There was little wind. We took a walk on the road, appreciated the stillness of the trees, the plants, the air. I did notice that the chipmunks had been active, removing the last impatiens plant from the pots along the stairs. Fortunately, they have ignored the window boxes, but what am I to do with this pot?
I have some more borage seed, so I guess I'll try that. But I've had so little luck with germination this year. I know where I could get impatiens, but the chipmunks seem to like it as much as they like my wave petunias. Does not seem worth it.
See how my thoughts just wander!
The yoga teacher talks about finding a spot to focus on, a drishti, when attempting a balancing posture like tree pose. I think I need to teach myself to identify focal points when off the yoga mat as well. Moonlight path on the bay. Chicory flower by the road. The spine of a book I love. There is a lot in motion, but not everything is. There is stillness around me that I can find when I look. There is stillness that I can absorb.
Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway
