I’ve written a few of these posts in years gone by. One I remember vividly, the others less so, but I have no doubt the sentiment contained in this, is an echo of many a previous blog entry – I’ll try to refresh some stale ideas. I guess I’m still trying to learn.
P.s. Don’t try to find those posts, they’ve long been hidden in the deepest corners of blog sites of old.
Edit. I jotted down a blog entry on my phone yesterday morning, then I wrote it fully last night. Thankfully, I reread it this afternoon before posting it. It was maybe the most contrived, overworked piece of writing I’ve ever produced. Needless to say, this is take two. The premise remains the same, hopefully with less bullshit.
But first a bullshit setup is necessary. Sorry, not sorry. Stop reading, whatever. Idc.
As much as I love yoga, the airy fairy spiritual thing I don’t really identify with too often. When I think spirituality, I think the universe, I think higher power, which – yeah – I dabble with. But that doesn’t come into my mind at all when I think of yoga. Yoga is all about me controlling me. Or trying to at least. Some days it’s about trying to put my leg in positions my arthritic knees would rather I didn’t. But most of the time, it’s about digging me out of places I’d rather not be in.
Weirdly, focusing on me saves me from me. I’m not schizophrenic, I don’t think(!?). Most people look at a yoga class and think “How calm, look at everyone relaxed and focused.” God, if only you could hear my internal dialogue. Yes, dialogue not monologue – this is a full on conversation. In a 60 minute class at least 20 minutes are filled with
“So today sucked. XYZ happened and …”
“Jamie, stop thinking that, we’re in yoga class now. Focus on you’re breathing…”
“Yeah yeah, ok… But do you remember that thing that happened in 2004 that you’re still not ov-”
“Will you just shut the fuck up and breath.”
“What did so-and-so mean when they said “ghjrgdgjktsghsugo” ? Was that meant for us?”
“BREATH.”
Another 15 minutes are filled with thoughts that my quaking ankle may give way at any moment, 10 are filled by “we must be nearly at the end now? I’m shattered.”
But amongst all of that, there are 15~ BEAUTIFUL minutes. 15 glorious minutes that make the whole experience worth it. Like the universe hit the pause button on my life. In that time my brain is completely numb; it’s silent. The pilot has fell asleep in the cockpit. But this flight isn’t not spiralling out of control. I’m completely still. It’s smooth sailing from here on out. My heart isn’t riding a rollercoaster it didn’t realise it had signed up for. It’s beating, albeit probably too fast. But for once it’s due to exercise and not emotion. Instead, the co-pilot has taken over the show. Spoiler, the co-pilot is waaaaaaay better equipped to fly than my brain ever could be. Gut instinct takes over. Conscious thought has gone out of the window, effort has dissolved, competition doesn’t exist anymore, the outside world is outside my reality. It’s just me. An almost hollow version, moving, silently within myself. And it’s fucking bliss.
I operate 1000% better when my gut is in control, yet I ignore it almost religiously. I’m a moron in almost every area of my life, but my instinct is rarely wrong. Yet, like the idiot in an argument that I am, I think I know better. I over analyse, I look at all the possibilities. What if the spade is in fact – not a spade? What if it’s a pitchfork trying to be a spade but it’s just not there yet? What if it’s a multi-purpose tool? If you want it bad enough, you can turn it into a spade? Call it what it is, Flynn, and deal with it. I forget their exact words, it was in broken English, but someone once told me “Only ask a question if you’re ready to hear all possible answers. If you’re not ready for something you don’t want to hear, you’re not ready to ask. You’ve got two choices, accept the answer, deal with it and continue, or, move on. There’s no changing the answer.” That sentiment has stuck with me for years.
You’ll never hear me talk about these things, but I dwell on things a lot. I sit in silence. It’s not one of my finer traits. I let thoughts fester until I implode or explode. 9 times out of 10 I implode. I have this belief that everything that can go wrong along the way will, but at the end of the day things will still turn out fine. I find some comfort in that, but it does mean I accept some suffering along the way. Suffering that very well may have been avoidable. Suffering sounds really severe, let’s not be too dramatic here like. I accept shit days, is what I’m trying to get at.
I’ve seemingly ran out of steam to continue this post. Maybe my gut has taken over for once outside of the yoga studio. Maybe it’ll only last 15 minutes here too. Who knows. What I do know is that I should trust it more often.
For now, enough job applications, enough rambling into my keyboard (This was a shit show.) I’m going to sit by the sea. Hopefully there’s a high tide. Everything feels better by the sea.
Trust yourself. Trust your instincts over everything else. First impressions stick, there’s a reason for that. I believe in you deep down. Even if I think myself out of it.
Flynn!
xo
Let's go on an adventure. 