This is what balance
actually feels like to me: all of my physical, mental and
emotional pieces are vying for order and stability. After years of teaching and practicing the most fundamental pose in yoga,
Tadasana, I can accept the dynamic
physical actions that are necessary to simply stand upright and balance. In other areas, I for one, spend more time
moving
toward the state of balance than residing in any particular territory. But with practice, it gets easier.
Lessons just seem to present themselves, like this past Saturday. I
declined an invitation
to spend the entire day lounging at the beautiful Mauna Kea Beach Hotel,
where I'd be with friends, develop a darker shade of tan, read a book,
laugh, eat and be merry. But, I also wanted to go to the Farmers Market
in Keauhou, I had a class to teach and blog posts I wanted to write
before my upcoming family vacation this week. So I leaned a little to the left.
Then
as it happens once every three hundred and forty-five days or so,
no one showed up for my 10am yoga class. I took it as an invitation to
get a two hour head start on my writing so I
leaned the other way
and felt as though more time poured back into my side of the hourglass.
At least, that was until I realized that my blogging service was not fully
functioning. I couldn't write any blog posts. My
ankles quivered as I abruptly stopped moving forward.
Thank
goodness I have things to fall back on. I've got a hard head and a
chest full of
wants and wishes. I stubbornly refer to roadblocks as
simple detours and when refused one menu, pull out a cookbook. Those
are not the traits of a more intelligent or developed soul, no. Just
the reflexes of someone who insists on moving to the state of balance.
I ended up learning how to create and install widgets on my blogs and at the end of the day, I was grateful for all of the detours. You know, I don't think I'm ready to live in the State of Balance, yet. At least not full-time. I'm beginning to enjoy the challenge of leaning from side to side, going forward and falling back because I can create my own landing space. As one of my yoga teachers used to say whenever we struggled to stand on our hands or heads, "Don't worry, the floor is always there!"
Original Photo: Heidi Vickery-Uechi