Stumble upon

No, I'm not talking about the website (although I am addicted). I'm using the term "to stumble upon" i.e. to "rather ungracefully happen upon" in the old fashioned way--to run into. I have stumbled upon many things: tables, chairs, mud (much to the chagrin of my jeans), but more importantly, I've stumbled upon people, places, and passions.

The most prominent thing that I've happened upon that's become a necessity in my life is yoga. Technically, I've done yoga for most of my life (one, because I've taken deep breaths most of my life and that is the first step in yoga). I was introduced to the practice in elementary school, through a delightful teacher who turned bends and twists into a joyfully creative endeavor. But just as I started getting into the practice, I entered the challenging world of middle school--a place where yoga would've done wonders for my "demonically possessed personality" (as my father affectionately calls it), but where such a practice would be cause for incessant mockery. Apparently in the world of twelve and thirteen year olds, hitting each other in the head with a volleyball is a much better stress-reliever. Who would've thunk it.

So I lost sight of yoga for a bit. Enter tenth grade Kira, who's entered the acne age and must resort to solitary exercise. I flipped through the fitness channels on television, died after a couple Jillian Michaels routines, and decided it would be best to stick to some calmer cardio, if there was even such a thing. One ten minute yoga workout and an open chakra later, I'd found my fitness calling.

Except it turned from an exercise form to a spiritual activity before I even recognized the change. It was amazing how breathing through a particularly challenging posture (or asana) could make you see the world more clearly. It was always in the back of my mind that twisting myself in a pretzel could make me have nice abs and legs, but it was no longer the main purpose...until I hit what I call the "yogic wall." 

The yogic wall is vast, but not great, like that wall in China. It is painful. It is similar to writer's block, only add on ten more pounds. It makes you say "if I see another downward dog ever again, I will scream." After letting a month of spiritual yoga seep in, I turned my practice into a seemingly jogging-esque activity rather than an enlightening one. If it looks ridiculous to see someone bend and stretch in fast motion, it feels ten times more ridiculous. When I go to the studio to practice, I almost revel in the discomfort of holding a pose. Huh, this isn't so terrible, I think to myself, a good kind of challenge. Then I get home and start doing some lunges like I'm running a race to enlightenment. "And the winner of reaching Nirvana for ages 18-29 is...not Kira because she's seemed to collapse in a puddle of her own sweat!"

It's a process. But even when I start to view yoga as more of an exercise activity, the rest of my life is still affected by it. As I rush through postures and grow dissatisfied with the discomfort in my body, I rush through my day to day activities and grow dissatisfied with the discomfort in my life. As I turn my yoga practice into a humdrum routine, I become convinced that I am doomed to a life that never changes. The other day, I did a set of sun salutations and while I breathed through the discomfort on one side, I rushed through the next. The rest of that afternoon I wondered why I felt unbalanced.

The thing about yoga, is that you can't just breeze through a half hour of poses. It requires a mindful attitude and the willingness to breathe through the challenging poses. I may have stumbled upon yoga, but I'm learning that you can't stumble into it.

Namaste.