A beat sets time as metallic sounds slide
repeat, repeat until trance is complete
Body is still, shoulders rest
eager to enter sleep:
my hidden mountain, my towering, fragile nest.
As if I didn’t have enough projects in my wild and precious (although perhaps a bit overzealous) life, I’ve just added a new one: yoga. I always called 2012 the “year of building” for me and it has been that and more. In January, I took my first training and stepped onto the path to becoming a doula, or a professionally trained birth attendant to provide a continuum of emotional, physical, and informational support to new moms before, during, and after birth. Today, I have already attended 2 births, have another one on the way in the next week or so (depending on how the wind blows…) and have learned more about childbirth, the powers of the uterus, and breastfeeding troubleshooting than many women learn in a lifetime. And still I feel I know nothing, compared to all there is yet to discover. And so, like any logical person would do in a state of absolute humility and despair looking at all the unread books on her shelf on hormonal balance, the impact of food and eating habits on pregnancy sickness, and managing life with twins… I pick up yet another project. So, yoga teacher training. More books, more to learn, more to be wowed by the tiny sliver of guesswork I call my knowledge to this point about the human body. And yet I yearn to have even just one more sliver.
So I decided to share this part of the journey…via writing. My hope is that this yoga journey will bring together all the doula and holistic learning in a way that makes sense, ties some loose edges, and above all, gives me a chance to process what it means to be a woman, brown, beautiful, slumped shoulders and screwed up hormones and all in this body and overactive mind. And perhaps, someone else will find it half as interesting as I will!
Thus, my longer-than-necessary introduction. Just had to get the mood lighting set up.
Thanks for coming along. Will begin the storytelling after my next class!
My teacher said I have slumped shoulders.
My teacher told me don’t press your chest so forward.
She said I’m “muscling through” to get the pose.
Does she know
I slump to hide a broken heart,
I press on believing there’s something better in the mist,
I use what strength I have left, what has never been defeated.
She wants me to be a yogi.
I want to find my peace.