My lower back is as twangy right now as an old-style country western singer. It shouldn't be. Six months of yoga is supposed to have strengthened my core so that my back feels supported and happy. I've spent the last year babying and nursing and listening to my sacrum, and I expected that by now we'd be good friends and she would not still be requiring constant careful nurturing.
It's possible I've gotten just enough stronger, just enough more flexible, that I've pushed myself too far beyond my edge. It's possible that impatience with the slowness of my progress has deafened my ears to my body's polite requests to keep that edge close in the same way a mother never lets a toddler out of her sight.
A most amazing thing just happened - just this minute as I'm writing this post. I had written a couple of paragraphs beyond this, all about chakras, control, support, and had gone back to check for flow. Suddenly this phrase became neon on the page: It's possible that impatience with the slowness of my progress has deafened my ears.
Damn! I've been so careful to keep my edge close and somehow it got away from me. Just like a wild and curious toddler determined to get as far afield as possible.
Lately I've allowed impatience, which I actually think is fear dressed in flashy clothes, to convince me I need to step up the pace a bit or I'm going to be left in the dust of all the younger, smarter, more flexible (and thinner) people who didn't take more than five decades to start to figure things out.
The thing that startled me most about that statement, however, is my impatience with yoga is nothing compared to my impatience with this other part of my life. The one I left a safe and secure (and stifling) career to pursue. It's March. The year is two-thirds gone. My book is not only not rewritten, but I'm still trying to find the frame of the new story, and worst of all I can't seem to find the soul of the story.
There's more of course. Once she starts talking, friend impatience can go on forever, and no thing is safe from her critical eye. But much like her friend, shame, she almost always overplays her hand. This time my body got wise and ratted her out pretty early in the game. I'm off to find my wandering edge, to bring her home so I can keep her safe, and to find a way to thank and comfort my wise sacrum.
image from Flickr