10565-114 Street  |  Edmonton, AB T5H 3J6  | 780) 421-9853

Beginner's Mind



This first week of classes at Integration I am away in Vancouver enjoying the rain. I have been running along the sea wall, and enjoying sharing the trail with MANY other runners, walkers, and doggies. I am trying to increase my running speed and the sea wall crowd had been providing much appreciated motivation.

I have also been taking different classes through the day. Yesterday I was in an advanced power yoga class and before class began,  the teacher asked me how long I had been practicing yoga (to ensure my safety I am sure), and I said "25 years". I had not realized how long it has been until she asked me. And yet I still learn so many new things about yoga every time I practice. The same holds true for Pilates. I love being a student in class, waiting to hear the most subtlest of cues, and excited about how something so small - but NEW - can change me. In fact, most of the cues I hear are NOT new, but everyday I am new, and everyday the teacher is a new person, and so how we speak and hear and interpret each other is completely up for grabs in every moment. I open myself to whatever the moment brings, and in even a basic class (which I took the next day) I am filled with epiphany and inspiration. 

What is so easy for me to do in a structured, safe class is so hard for me to do in everyday life. I become a habitual creature very easily, and react to things with embarrassingly monotonous predictability. This is where I need my yoga practice to live. I know that in every moment I am a new person, that I am like a the tide sweeping up onto the shore, that I am never the same water, but I forget that. And I forget that everyone is their own, unique ocean of possibility. And so I treat people, and myself, as though I know them, when in fact that cannot be possible, as we are as mysterious as a candle flame - always dancing, and not a solid thing, even though we might look like one.

So this is my desire: that I wake myself up out of my embarrassingly monotonous predictability the next time I see you, so I can see who this "you" is today.

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