A sense of savasana

“Hari om, tat sat. Hari om, tat sat. The practice of yoga nidra concludes.” 

Satisfied that the class has surrendered to the spell of my voice, I sink down to the bolster, knees out to the side, ankles crossed. From this so-called easy pose, I observe my prone students enjoying their supervised nap—but hopefully without the actual REM state. 

From the depths of the candlelit studio I hear, “Snork.” Ah. Who has succumbed? I scan shadowed faces, looking for the tell-tale droop of slumber. There! The parent who earlier complained of sleeplessness, lips moving with each noisy exhale. 

Up I creep, deliberately placing each step, skirting around arms, legs, and squeaky floorboards. Holding my breath, I move through the kaleidoscope of yoga mats until I am next to the slumbering student. I crouch down and gently reach out a hand. With a touch, I bring the snorer back from dreamland. Eyes fly open in response and I nod reassuringly. A sheepish smile and the student’s eyelids descend once more.  

Another careful dance through the yoga mats and I am re-seated. Again I look out over the darkened room, hearing a few deep exhales, but no further clattering breaths. 

The silence of savasana continues.

Book overboard

Bookcase with 'begone writing guilt' textI came back from the yoga retreat in the Czech Republic feeling relaxed and happy. Maybe a little too relaxed as my drive to write entirely disappeared.

The perfect balance of scheduled activities and free time at the retreat left me a lot of thinking space, which included pondering my ambition to write a book. I’ve been mulling over writing about breath and breathing from a variety of perspectives,1 but haven’t buckled down and gotten much of anything done.

No solid outline, nothing drafted, just a bit of research, some scattered ideas, and a few bookmarked websites. My initial goal was to have an outline complete by the end of 2013, but almost 10 months have passed and I have found all sorts of other activities to occupy my time.

With the space to think about my nebulous dream to write a non-fiction book as enjoyable and informative as Mary Roach’s Stiff, I realized that I don’t have the necessary ambition – at least, not right now. I’m unwilling to muster the motivation and discipline to make it happen, which is making me feel guilty and delinquent. Those feelings, in turn, make me less willing to commit to writing and less likely to produce anything meaningful.

So, I’m tossing the idea of writing a book overboard. I’m abandoning my thesis on breath and breathing… and letting go of guilt.

Perhaps I’ll circle back to the idea of writing a book later on, but for now I’ll content myself with posting travelogues and recipes!

 

 

 

1 Possible perspectives on breath and breathing:

  • physical – drawing on my own experiences with blocked breathing and nasal surgery
  • spiritual – informed by my religious studies and yoga background
  • athletic – tapping a network of athletic experts and high-level athletes for insight