In the four weeks I’ve taken this incredibly gentle all-levels yoga class on Sunday mornings, one truth has been made quite clear: this body of mine has changed.
Poses into which I used to be able to slip now require great effort to maintain even the most basic variation. A great deal of my natural flexibility has diminished, I’m tight in places that have previously always been loose. I wonder if I’ll ever be that limber again.
Of course, this is to be expected. I quite literally never do yoga. Rather, I haven’t in a reeeeally long time. I more than took for granted the ease with which I had always been able to move. Slowly, and ever so delicately, I am beginning to navigate the current shape of things, accepting with grace where I am and setting a clear intention for where I’d like to be with a little dedicated practice.
Physical fitness is a journey, I have learned this over the years. There is not a more resilient machine on Earth than the human body, it’s ability to regenerate and transform is miraculous. Presently, I find myself in the form of a postpartum woman, significantly softer and rounder than my normal state of being, but without a baby to help nurse off the extra weight. It is entirely up to myself to get into shape.
This is not about getting my body back. To be honest, I’m not interested in that former vessel. I want to be stronger and healthier than I was before, more open of heart and mind, steeped in self-love and gratitude.
Progress comes to those to put in the effort.