Yoga for the body & Soul

Sounds pretty amazing doesn’t it? Like this post is going to be full of nourishing thoughts and meditative practices. From the chanting of om to pranayam to downward dogs and suryanamaskars – isn’t it absolutely joyous?

Except chanting om makes me realise just how out of sync I am with the rest of the class. Downward dogs end up with me clutching my shoulder which doesn’t quite extend, and suryanamaskars are the cardio that will be the end of us all.

Ok wait, let’s start again. I actually do like yoga. I’m just not very good at it.

I’ve had a long term love-hate relationship with exercise. I actually do enjoy gymming – and it was pretty helpful initially to lose the baby fat and get a little stronger. But then in college I hurt my knee. And later on my way to work I promptly fell on my ass and broke it, literally. So exercise came to a full stop. I gained weight with happiness. I lost weight to the point of looking the hottest I ever have (thanks to the borderline depression I was struggling with). And eventually gained it all again (and some more). And while I was so busy struggling with the needle on the weighing machine, I completely forgot about simple things like fitness. And this thing called strength, which my body no longer recognises. And while you can get away with that throughout your 20s, the moment you hit 30 your body literally looks at you with resignation and says, “I think it’s time to learn the consequences, baby.”

Yeah, karma sucks.

It’s like the 30s are the multitude of all the hangovers you avoided in your 20s, all mushed together into this one giant big ball of weird shit that can happen to your body and suddenly dumped right on your head, only a little worse. And so you realise, it’s time to take your body seriously.

2019 I struggled with the gym – which even though I went to regularly my body refused to respond to. I also dabbled in trying every permutation-combination of other things my body was protesting against (read: alcohol). I ran against the weighing scale needle. All to no avail.

So 2020 is the year of detox. Forced detox, to be truthful, but I’m just so tired of trying to get my body to listen to me, I figured it’s time I start listening to my body.

So while I struggle with my locked shoulder in my lopsided downward dog, I talk sweetly to my shoulder and say, don’t worry, you’ll get there, take your time.

Or I try hanging upside down and promptly fall sick the next day.

Yeah, baby steps, I’ll get this detox right.


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