The Moksha yoga teacher training program requires me to journal once each week about my experience with the poses and assignments + my practice and progress. This is part of that weekly assignment.
I cannot wait for next weekend to be over. I don’t normally wish to leapfrog over time, but in this case, I make an exception.
The springtime non-stop blitz of trainings, practices, prepping for the video review, finding gaps of time to craft a Beatles-inspired practice — all of the commitments that have filled up my evenings and weekends — those will be over.
I’ll have more “free” time. I’ll be able to make more plans with the friends that I’ve stopped calling. I’ll be able to spend more time with my family. I’ll be able to shape a Sunday with this plan: no plans.
Balance will be restored. I’ll have a chance to breathe. Really breathe.
The irony of the past several months is this: As I learn about breath-work and how to teach it, I’ve failed to replicate it off the mat into my daily life as well as I would like … my life has been so scheduled with all of the yoga teacher training commitments.
Some of the events, yes, have not been “necessary.” But when I commit to something, I commit to it with zeal. Perhaps the zeal is what has me begging for a strong second wind to get through this final “blitz” week.
Once I get through this week — then it’s on to teaching karma and community classes, working on my final thesis and writing my final “exam” (based on experiencing three days of silence or a few weeks of maintaining a strict Ayurvedic diet).
Come this fall, I’ll have the tiny piece of paper that symbolizes the commitment I’ve made as a yogini — and this exasperation I’m feeling right now will weave itself into tears of joy.