I dragged myself out of the house and into the yoga studio. Today's afternoon session is a special "karma" session, where students pay a minimum of $5 for the usual class. I emptied a bunch of coins which I gave to the designated donation jar along with a twenty dollar bill. The money would go to a charity called "Share the Warmth", which provides food and warmth and tutoring to underprivileged children in my area of the city.
The yoga session, 90 minutes of it, was intense and I had difficulty concentrating. There was one pose, ironically called the "awkward" pose where you have to half squat and stand on you heels and stretch your arms out, pretending you are sitting on an invisible chair with your back straight, which was extremely intense. But the yoga teachers encouraged us, and said whoever can hold the position like that for a minute, they would donate extra money to the charity. I strained to stay in the pose, strained and strained and felt my arms and feet breaking, felt sweat beads flow down my cheeks and chest... But I did it. I conquered the time, conquered the strain and stiffness, the muscle aches and sweating, conquered my own willpower and succeed. And it felt wonderful. Wonderful.
The rest of the session, I struggled through, tried the best I could to strike the poses and hold them for thirty seconds. Focusing on the breath helped. Focusing on one point n my body or one point on the wall in front of me, helped. And I pulled through the ninety minutes, and was so relieved to do so.
The last pose was the relaxing pose. Everyone lay on the floor as the teacher told us to relax. She read out a poem. A beautiful, beautiful poem about gratitude...
Gratitude that I am breathing...
gratitude that I can see the birds flex their wings...
Gratitude for the arms and legs that I have, gratitude that I can practise yoga and have this time (and the means...) to develop my spiritual self and connect with my mind and my body...
Gratitude for family, for the season of warmth and sharing with loved ones...
At that point, I closed my eyes and cringed.
It was a raw nerve that was struck. I felt heavy and could burst out crying. Perhaps the intensity of the heated yoga room got to my brain and emotions... I could hardly bear it.
I feel gratitude that once I had family, once I had my mother and my father... I saw my mum's loving face, saw dad's smile and felt the way he used to pat me on my head growing up... I saw mum's eyes, face, felt the way she used to grab my arm when we used to walk side by side... Gone now. All gone now. Lost forever. All's gone now, all but memories that will fade, and fade and fade... All experiences and emotions that can never be replaced.
How do you go on, how do you face the music, face the world, without love...? How do you go through it all alone?
I feel gratitude that I have a nephew, have my brother and sister-in-law. But they are far away. Far away, and I cannot feel the joy, simply cannot feel the warmth of the holidays.
I simply cannot.
The yoga session, 90 minutes of it, was intense and I had difficulty concentrating. There was one pose, ironically called the "awkward" pose where you have to half squat and stand on you heels and stretch your arms out, pretending you are sitting on an invisible chair with your back straight, which was extremely intense. But the yoga teachers encouraged us, and said whoever can hold the position like that for a minute, they would donate extra money to the charity. I strained to stay in the pose, strained and strained and felt my arms and feet breaking, felt sweat beads flow down my cheeks and chest... But I did it. I conquered the time, conquered the strain and stiffness, the muscle aches and sweating, conquered my own willpower and succeed. And it felt wonderful. Wonderful.
The rest of the session, I struggled through, tried the best I could to strike the poses and hold them for thirty seconds. Focusing on the breath helped. Focusing on one point n my body or one point on the wall in front of me, helped. And I pulled through the ninety minutes, and was so relieved to do so.
The last pose was the relaxing pose. Everyone lay on the floor as the teacher told us to relax. She read out a poem. A beautiful, beautiful poem about gratitude...
Gratitude that I am breathing...
gratitude that I can see the birds flex their wings...
Gratitude for the arms and legs that I have, gratitude that I can practise yoga and have this time (and the means...) to develop my spiritual self and connect with my mind and my body...
Gratitude for family, for the season of warmth and sharing with loved ones...
At that point, I closed my eyes and cringed.
It was a raw nerve that was struck. I felt heavy and could burst out crying. Perhaps the intensity of the heated yoga room got to my brain and emotions... I could hardly bear it.
I feel gratitude that once I had family, once I had my mother and my father... I saw my mum's loving face, saw dad's smile and felt the way he used to pat me on my head growing up... I saw mum's eyes, face, felt the way she used to grab my arm when we used to walk side by side... Gone now. All gone now. Lost forever. All's gone now, all but memories that will fade, and fade and fade... All experiences and emotions that can never be replaced.
How do you go on, how do you face the music, face the world, without love...? How do you go through it all alone?
I feel gratitude that I have a nephew, have my brother and sister-in-law. But they are far away. Far away, and I cannot feel the joy, simply cannot feel the warmth of the holidays.
I simply cannot.
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