On Avoiding the Choice and the Change

by HelluvaGirl

It's like they say: life begins when you get fired, miss your bus or have insomnia. Today I missed my body pump workout in a traffic and how right I was not to get mad about it. After eating some stupid nonsense (tried to make hot chocolate to go with strawberries; ended up eating hot ghee with cocoa and grains of sugar) I remembered my last conversation with the Witch of Eastwick. It was last Friday night and I was (sic!) drinking fruit tea in the area of the city where my glass usually contains flammable liquids. We were talking yoga and why I can't collect myself to have a go in one of the groups. I don't belong to circles, you see? - I was telling her. I'm not a group person when it comes to self search. Even if I arrive late, I want to arrive at my own time, although I agree being within a group with a certain level of knowledge or energy can boost whatever you are trying to achieve. You are afraid, she said. I argued. What would I be afraid of? Your mind is playing with you. Think about it. I didn't. I felt right. I accept that to some people it is important to belong to a gang, to make a sport out of self help/developmental/soul searching camps - I don't function that way. To me, it is empirical, and I want every achievement, every discovery or turning point to be born inside of me without having epiphanies sprayed on me in some incenced lifestyle studio. So I went to the gym today, rode my stationary bicycle, did the thighs, had my sit-ups and lifted weights. And then it was 8 pm when yoga begins. I went inside led by a tiny spark of curiosity, almost sure I'd be disappointed. Just to prove my point, basically. Man, I thought power pump was hard... 15 minutes later I was mouthing the f word and wondering when we were going to lie down. Gosh, you can get muscles from that! But the craziest part was when the coach said relax, listen to yourself, feel your body, breathe. My thoughts were crashing trains; I impatiently wondered what would the next exercise be, and how long were we gonna do this? Is there some system? Which muscle should I feel right now? No, I just can't touch my thighs with my belly! It lasted forever. It got a bit better, but not much: I couldn't concentrate because I didn't know the technique of each asana and I wanted to do them right. After all, we did lie down, covering ourselves with blankets (mine didn't smell good). It was easier to relax and breathe without trying to break my torso in two. The music was... It was the one from mixed tapes I used to listen to as a teen, mantras and all. I don't know what happened exactly but a huge wave of context-free emotion embraced me and I felt a tear escaping my right eye and travelling down the temple towards loose hair. And then there was a slow one from the left. I was the stationary bicycle. Constantly making a hustle and not getting anywhere. It's my life, defined. My every single marathon of a day. And I wasn't going anywhere like that. The music absorbed me and I was thinking the Witch of Eastwick was right - I was afraid. Afraid of what I felt there lying on the floor yet again – that immeasurable longing for withdrawal from everything into everything. I avoid this longing as much as I can. When you know what you want, what you are drawn to - the rest of it, the continuing of the old direction is mere pretending. It’s empty of content and meaning. But if I go the way my heart yearns to, then almost everything has to be left behind. My job, my crazy multitasking, my manner of thinking and speaking, my way of being a mother. How do I go on then? What happens to me? What happens to Pia if I want to leave? Because this is what I’m afraid of the most – I want to leave and to look for something I know is already inside of me. I am ashamed to say this but it’s true. Those questions were burning in my elbows and ankles and thighs there. It’s a bit easier to go on with your eyes closed and you just can’t close them again once you see. Everyone was gone. The instructor looked at me smiling.
Did you like it? You did surprisingly well for the first time!
I smiled back.
You must be joking. See you.
Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestmailFacebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestmail
twitterpinteresttwitterpinterest