I was laying on the floor yesterday (something I have been doing more lately) and I remembered an early morning in Mysore practice. I was laying on my mat at the end of my practice, my sweat cooling my skin. The firm and nourishing support of the ground underneath me. A teacher came up to me and quietly asked if I wanted weights on my shoulders. The weights used in yoga are usually cloth bags filled with 5 or 10 pounds of sand. I love them. So of course, I said yes. She placed a bag on the front of each shoulder so that the sand bag spilled off the corners of my shoulders, grounding them to the floor. She then walked off and came back with two more and placed them on the top of my thighs. Again, she left and came back and placed a smaller sand bag on my forehead so that most of the bag was sitting on the floor and there was a firm but welcome weight on my skull. My eyes were closed, darkness filled me. Although I was weighted down, I felt light as if I were floating.
Some days, not being able to move might feel suffocating, like I would want to push the sand off of me and run out of the room. These are usually days that I don’t prepare to relax all that well – I rush through a physical practice or I don’t give myself the time I need to settle. Some days it just takes longer. This day wasn’t like that. I felt the weight of the Earth on me and let my body spread onto the ground. Even when I thought I was relaxed, I felt the smallest amount of tension unwind from a muscle and sense the slightest bit of urgency go away.
Resisting this self-inflicted heaviness, pushing up against the weighty supports, grew tension in me. A subtle tension. The kind that is so familiar like wanting to be somewhere other than where I am at that moment. Fighting against this invitation to stay would have caused more of a raging tightness, the kind that can harm. This ground supporting me and holding me helped me to be where I was then for those few minutes. It was such a relief and reconfirmed the absurdity of what is often the case of my mind being somewhere other than present to my current circumstances. Striving. Wanting. Looking for more.
I am not saying that everyone should do this right now. I was taught once that we shouldn’t always close our eyes in this pose. That kind of darkness can cause panic, depending on our circumstances. There are many people, now and prior to this pandemic, that don’t feel safe enough to close their eyes, who are in circumstances where alertness is needed and settling that adrenaline too much is too much. Maybe they don’t have a home to self-isolate in or maybe that home doesn’t feel safe. I thought about those people too yesterday, while lying on the floor, eyes closed sensing a pulsing through my body. Unless I stop in some way, I’m not aware of this. It’s the blood pumping through my body, it’s prana, it’s life. I am safe, I tell myself. And, it is okay to stop. Right now, I don’t have a choice.