As you know I’m in the middle of writing a book about stories and my new e-book (called Change the Story, Change Your Life) is all about how the stories we tell ourselves can keep us stuck or set us free.
So you’d like to think I’d be on top of this, wouldn’t you?
Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no.
I recently tripped myself up big time, telling myself that I couldn’t and wouldn’t do something, which of course was the exact thing I needed to do.
A few months ago I started practising yoga and I’ve discovered that I love Yin most of all. Now Yin is different from other yoga, you’re mostly sitting or lying down, it’s meditative and you hold the asanas (seats) for several minutes. As a result I am more peaceful, present and still, I’ve let a lot of things go and mostly I am really connecting to my body.
There’s one asana in particular that I have massive resistance to and it’s called Saddle, (well there’s more than one, anything that involves flinging my legs into the air is also out of bounds).
A few weeks ago I arrive late to a class and the only space is right at the front. Everyone is into Saddle and my conversation with the teacher (Emma) goes something like this:
Me: NO (firmly), that’s Ok, I’ll just lie here.
Then at the end of class:
Emma: I can time you in Saddle if you like.
Me: NO (even more firmly than before) that’s fine thanks; if I never do Saddle again it will be too soon.
Emma; ok, say it like you mean it!
You get the picture.
I decide I’d like to have 1-1 lessons with Emma and at least once in our discussions I say (probably also quite firmly), ‘Please don’t make me do too much Saddle.’
So of course, like any great teacher, in the first session what do we do? Yes you’ve got it Saddle. Well half Saddle. I open myself up further and need less support than ever before. And week two, yes you’ve got it full Saddle this time, and again even support.
What’s the message in this?