“Make hay while the sun shines.”
To me, darkness means rest. It also means potential, the way that the darkness of underground prepares a seed to push up to light. Darkness is also where we all start in our mothers’ wombs before our senses open to the outside world. Then there’s the darkness behind closed eyelids during savasana at the end of a yoga class and how it is sort of a gestation period for a yogi to go through, a transition between the neat laboratory of the yoga mat to the messiness of everyday life.
In 2017 I was thinking about how I could make sure I went yoga classes regularly. In 2018, that goal changed to bringing my yoga home so that I could do asana more often, share it with my daughter, and practice according to my needs (instead of following the lead of a teacher). At the beginning of 2019, I’ve been sometimes looking back at the last couple of years and feeling like I didn’t do as well as I thought I might at any of those goals. But then I look ahead into 2019 and I don’t know what to expect. I have a sense that it has something to do with more dedication to my morning routine - even if it is just 2 minutes of mantra or a 5-minute meditation - and sharing that with as many other yoga mamas as possible, both face-to-face and online. But I realize now as I write this, that sometimes setting an expectation keeps a person from discovering the best solution.
So, in one of my many moments of indecision and lack of clarity, I sit to breathe and listen to this much needed rain here in California. Isn’t that a moment of yoga, too?
It’s sort of that way with parenting. Kids change so much compared to adults. I realized that as my daughter changes and grows, I get stuck on the previous phase of her development. It’s like, once I figure out how to deal with a certain issue, she changes, then I have to figure out how to relate to her. Parents with toddlers, I know you get me on this: for instance, this week she likes crackers, the next week she doesn’t care about them.
But as my daughter grows and changes, I am forced to grow and change and so I am also forced to change my practice to suit the circumstances. Mom of a newborn to mom of a toddler. New moon to full moon and everything in between. Living in the city to living in suburbs, then in a city again. Practicing with my changing moods and needs as I move through each menstrual cycle. Being a woman and a mom is all about change. It is about making hay while the sun shines, but also about remembering that the sun doesn’t always shine because night eventually comes. And winter, too. It’s about resting in the deep dark and slowly coming back to movement and productivity as we move through shadows back to the brilliance of our full moon selves.
I wrote in another post about how even though I’ve always enjoyed the pausing to celebrate each new and full moon, I feel more connected to those phases of the moon when I also acknowledge the in-between phases, those moments of waxing and waning. As the moon waxes I often like to think of the expansive part of my breath: visualizing my inhale as an expanding circle of light or as light expanding from my core out through my arms, legs and the top of my head. But during this week as we move through a waxing moon, I move closer to the first day of my menstrual cycle which usually means my mood is not expanding, but contracting: there’s nothing I want to do more than curl up on the couch and watch Netflix (sorry, I’m not sure I could call that yoga except that it’s a form of acknowledging my bodies need for rest:)
So despite what I think I should do according to the phase of the moon, I also have to take into account my own phases.
As we near the first full moon of 2019, I invite you to sit still for 30 seconds, notice your breath and your body. Notice your mood and the thoughts in your mind. Then get curious: does your emotional, mental, and emotional state feel more expansive or more contractive? Can you inquire deeper into yourself about what that means for you? Do you feel the need for a quiet practice in a dim setting, or a dynamic practice in a bright environment? As a writer and creative yogi, I always look for the metaphor in things. That way life takes on the feel of a poem.
Finally, I’d like to share a mantra that I learned at Satchidananda Ashram - Yogaville. I always appreciate that Swami Satchidananda felt it important to include the English translation during chanting. I hope I got the spelling right on the Sanskrit; I typed it from memory.
Asato Ma, Sat Gamaya
Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya
Mrityor Mamritam gamaya
Om shanti, shanti, shanti
Lead us from unreal to real
Lead us from darkness to the light
Lead us from the fear of death
To knowledge of immortality
Om, shanti, shanti, shanti