I always love going to Ashleigh's yoga classes at Laughing Lotus Yoga Center. She and I went to Emerson College together, back when we were just wee babes, and I always looked up to her then. She is a breathtaking actor and a beautiful person, so when I walked into a Sunday afternoon class at my favorite yoga studio a year ago and found her smiling face at the front, I was thrilled. Last Tuesday I found myself in her Vinyasa class once again.
Monday night I had come across an old journal, which I had started when I was just out of college and having many new adventures. I was writing in it at a time when I was discovering the things that are now the bedrock of my life. I was traveling to Europe each year, meeting new people, learning about dance and theatre in new ways, having beautiful love affairs... and I was so excited and grateful for each new encounter. Every experience had so much weight and importance and as I was reading the stories I had written, I was blown away by how poetic and romantic my outlook was. When I finally closed the journal, feeling nostalgic and blue, I couldn't help but wonder, "What happened to that girl?"
Ashleigh's class was a much needed spiritual check-in for me at that point in the week. I am going to grad school full time, student teaching in a high school, and co-choreographing a musical through my department. Almost every hour of my life is accounted for and scheduled and, despite the new challenges and things I am learning everyday, that sense of discovery I found in my journal doesn't seem to exist for me right now. I felt I was mourning my 23-year-old self that once reveled in the beauty of every moment and resenting the 28-year-old self that can't think past her lesson plans and research papers.
As I set out my mat last Tuesday afternoon, wanting to surrender my worries over to downward dog, I tried to will myself to let go of the feelings I was having about losing my 23-year-old self. How was I going to come to terms with the fact that time will continue to pass, no matter how much I wished it wouldn't? How was I going to start to feel like celebrating my experiences again instead of feeling jaded or judgmental?
"What is called good is perfect. What is called bad is just as perfect," Ashleigh said as we started class. It is a line from a Walt Whitman poem, To Think of Time (excerpt below). She repeated this a few times more, especially in the moments when one might be prone to judging herself and her abilities (damn you, headstand! I will get you someday). "What is called good is perfect. What is called bad is just as perfect." When I left the class, I found myself repeating the line like a mantra. The line reveals the perfection, the yoga, in every aspect of life. You don't need a mat to practice yoga; yoga can live in each step as you walk down the street. Awareness of the movement in the world and accepting the perfect-ness of the present self, first and foremost, can open me up to noticing the beauty in each moment. The trick in finding the excitement and joy in life I once knew, to make each experience new again, is to release the judgment (even if it is hiding in the quiet room of reflection and self-assessment). Thank you, Ashleigh!
Since this is my first attempt at writing a blog, I thought I would name it after this Walt Whitman quote. Good or bad, this blog is just as perfect. As my quiet storm of growing up is passing, I am trying to check in with myself, to find the room to insert new experiences and adventures, and to be as grateful for life as I once was.
You can read the poem here: http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/wwhitman/bl-ww-tothinkof.htm
Do you suspect death? if I were to suspect death I should die now,
Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited toward annihilation?
Pleasantly and well-suited I walk,
Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good,
The whole universe indicates that it is good,
The past and the present indicate that it is good.
How beautiful and perfect are the animals!
How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it!
What is called good is perfect, and what is called bad is just as perfect,
The vegetables and minerals are all perfect, and the imponderable
fluids perfect;
Slowly and surely they have pass'd on to this, and slowly and surely
they yet pass on.
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