I am not supposed to be writing this. I am supposed to be taking a 6 p.m. class and then attending a workshop on consciousness and art and creativity. I have been looking forward to the workshop for a week, and planned to write a post about my (presumably) enlightening experience there.
But instead I am in bed, having chosen my body over my head.
It was an agonizing decision, because I have a hard time acknowledging weakness. I thought it should have been enough that I forfeited last night’s hot yoga practice in favor of a quiet evening and an early bedtime, especially since I’d taken it easy the previous night.
I had an exceptionally long and intense weekend of training, and I felt completely drained by the time I finally got home Sunday night. I’d been warned that there might be some fallout from all the energy I’d stirred up over the weekend and consequently went to bed as soon as I could. But before I went to sleep, I packed a bag for the next day’s hot yoga class.
Monday morning, I recognized the pain in my throat as a sign that I needed to take things slow, but I still came to work prepared to head to the hot room afterward. It took till 2 p.m. for me to admit I wasn’t hydrated or healthy enough to for ninety minutes of sweaty moving meditation. And after all, I consoled myself, I’d really given my all over the weekend; I deserved a night off. I felt indulgent and generous as I granted myself a reprieve and left my mat at the office.
Of course the implicit part of that bargain was that if I rested last night I’d be healthy today. And yet here I am, feeling worse than before! I know I’m not alone; my class listserve has been slammed with emails from trainees in varying degrees of physical distress. But it isn’t fair. I’ve been following the rules: I’ve been going to bed early every night since Thursday; I’ve been eating healthy and taking my vitamins; I haven’t had a social engagement in more than a week.
And so I was really looking forward to tonight, to some low-pressure time on the mat and the chance to soak in some knowledge on topics that truly fascinate me. And I could have gone–I could be in class right now, completing a flow and allowing myself plenty of rest in child’s pose. (While I was still mentally arguing my case for being active, I even told myself I could stay in child’s pose for the entire class.) And I could have dragged myself to the workshop, convincing myself that attending a lecture doesn’t require energy (and ignoring the fact that commuting definitely does).
But, for maybe the first time, I’m putting my body first. It was begging me for bed–a hint I picked up on when I found myself compelled to take a thirty-minute savasana (aka nap) on my lunch break. And as much as I wanted one night off to be enough, it wasn’t. As much as I want to be doing yoga right now, and to be learning about consciousness later, I’m not.
Because like it or not, I am unwell. It is huge for me to accept this, to stay away from the studio and from an earnestly anticipated learning opportunity. I am stubborn and a hard worker and I like to stick to my plans. But it’s not considerate to bring germs into a public space. (I feel bad enough about going to the office, but calling in wasn’t an option.) And though I’ve unfortunately seen enough coughing yogis to suggest otherwise, it is not useful to practice while under the weather. Rest, not exercise, is what heals.
So for tonight, my yoga will be welcoming my weakness rather than resisting it. And as disappointed as I am to miss out on the activities I’d so gladly made time for, I am proud of myself for listening to my body and respecting its needs.
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