I’m staring at my laptop and there’s nothing. I can’t write a single word. I could put it down to writers block but that’s just not true. The whole week I have been songwriting, writing a short story for my writers group, hell I’m writing press summaries at work all day. There is certainly no sign of mental limitations or lack of inspiration. So why is it that after returning from a three week holiday I can’t write a simple blog post on my current yogic musings.
I can’t write a single word.
I could put it down to writers block but that’s just not true. The whole week I have been songwriting, writing a short story for my writers group, hell I’m writing press summaries at work all day. There is certainly no sign of mental limitations or lack of inspiration. So why is it that after returning from a three week holiday I can’t write a simple blog post on my current yogic musings.
It may be because its not writers block, but rather yoga block. If this is not already a term, well then now I’ve coined it. I not only can’t write about yoga but I can’t bring myself to practice it for the last three to four weeks. This is just silliness because it’s exactly what my body and mind really needs at this point in time, coming back from a trans-atlantic holiday, post holiday come down, jet lag and re-adapting to my day to day rhythm. Yet like a stubborn toddler throwing a tantrum at having to have a bath, yoga is the last thing I want to do at the moment.
When I came back from California I immediately went to Tatjana’s class the very same evening of my return to Berlin. I was too tired and jetlagged to feel demonstrative, especially after a total of twenty hours of travel. All I remember of the class was falling asleep during meditation.
I took my yoga mat with me to California thinking if there ever was a place I was going to be inundated with opportunities to amplify my yoga practice it would be there. Over the two weeks I was away yoga opportunities peppered my path; from studios in LA to San Diego to sleepy coastal surf towns along the pacific coast line, to drop in yoga groups on the beach or in the park. Even some random lady had handwritten a small sign and taped it onto the door of her beach shack in Encinitas inviting beach goers to come and practice with her for free. I could not escape yoga, it was EVERYWHERE and California was shouting,
“Hey Bee! Come on over grab your mat and get your yoga on, it’ll be awesome!”.
No. I did not want to get my yoga on. I practiced a total of two times on my sixteen day trip. Why? I have no idea. All I wanted to do was swim in the pacific ocean, eat tacos and watch hot guys on skate/surf boards do hot guy on skate/surf board things. Not very yogic, but cut me some slack I’m a novice yogi – a Nyogi (sounds a bit like gnocchi).
Fast forward, I’m back in Berlin and still staring at this laptop. I have now been back for fourteen days and I still find it near to impossible to get my ass on that damn yoga mat. I feel my body and mind are thirsty for it – though the first week my body was in Berlin but metaphysically I was clearly still in Encinitas eating tacos and sippin’ Patron…um… I mean green antioxidant smoothies (cough, cough). I even skipped one of Tatjana’s classes and sent an email laced with guilt.
Enough was enough. I finally got my ass on that mat today. I did it and it felt good, like really good. Granted my mind did wander back to tacos and the pacific ocean several times during meditation but that ok right? One can meditate on tacos and the ocean and still practice mindfulness? I felt really good during inversions, which was the first time in a long time, despite suffocating myself with my own ample bosom as it cut off air to my larynx during shoulder stands. It’s moments like this that remind me that yoga was undoubtedly invented by a man with the male body in mind, as my chest keeps on getting in the way of certain poses.
Lone behold, I’ve returned home from class and have finally finished this long over due blog post. I’m slowly starting to realise that sometimes you have to be patient with the process. Patience, my most elusive friend. Yoga and meditation really do extend beyond the mat, even my reticence to practice has lent itself to me better understanding my practice. Huh, mindfulness, who would have thunk it.
Ta da! The yoga block has been broken.