A Sea of Silence

I have been a risk taker from birth. I’m quite certain that I brought both parents to the brink of myocardial infarction numerous times as I learned to walk, and more notably, began to climb up on things and see if I could jump off. I have never been good at resting, especially mentally. My mind is a vibrant mess of chaos but I think I’ve done pretty well with that trait. It’s never held me back and in fact I believe it makes me excel and more than anything, it keeps me young. I was once called by one of my professors a “brilliant muli-tasker”. I seem to have embraced the dynamics that lie within me. I don’t really have issues staying on task, I just want to get the task done and get to the next one. I’m not an adrenaline junkie, I just tend to gravitate towards those things that leave the biggest mark on my psyche. I was given this body, this life, and this time, as a gift and I TRULY understand that, and therefore I want to use it, feel it, and live it to its fullest. My sense of adventure goes so far back, probably to the day I was born. I’m always innovating, and looking for ways to better a process. I remember being young and my mom finding a string of French fries tied together in my pocket, and at the end I had tied a little dead frog. I still laugh when she brings it up, but I’m pretty sure there was something completely ingenious about that. I probably thought I could save the world like McGyver…one fry at a time! I was a rambunctious kid ready to tangle, get dirty, jump my cape laden body from any high point, and I mostly just had one speed..GO! I wonder now that I am a parent just how my folks did it.

Being called a “adrenaline junkie” just never clicked with me. I’m a “life junkie” through and through. I want to go until I can’t go anymore. I wanna mix it up, mash it up, spit it out, and just grab life by the horns. The clock is ticking and no one is getting out alive so I guess my whole wiring scheme just tells me to go! Getting hurt is just a part of this mess and to me you can count the life in one’s years by the scars and stories that emblazon their bodies and souls. I’ve got no shortage of those, nor do I think that what I have will be all that I leave this world with. Getting through life’s injuries is just a part of it, but slowing down has been something that I’ve always struggled with. One of my favorite sayings is “you’ll get all the rest you need when you’re dead”. Unfortunately, some of my injuries have been traumatic and life changing. I’m the king of concussions through and through. I’ve taken so many of the aforementioned leaps from high places, only to lose my battle with gravity and consciousness. Add another cognitive recalibration to the program. Yet I cannot fathom the thought of resting on my laurels as this life passes me by. This is me, it’s what I am, and I am what I am.

Taking on this “yoga challenge” seems a paradox to my life, at best, and a true challenge if nothing else. I have to slow my roll to do this. I have to embrace the silence and let my body feel that it is okay to stop my supersonic momentum for a moment, and to relax, be quiet, and to take my body to a place it isn’t too familiar with anymore. I find a quiet in the studio as I work through my practice. In only a short time I have found this space that I knew existed (from my past yoga experience) but I have been reluctant to allow this space to enter my world. I find it fascinating to just sit and listen to the sounds around me as the masses ease into Sukhasana (Easy Pose) my body creaks, cracks, settles, and I find grounding, yet my mind finds the pose anything but “easy”. I’m learning to embrace the silence and to let my body slowly slither down into the earth. I have once again found the peace in that single, simple pose, and I smile slightly as I feel my body slowly releasing, and my mind gently locked in the pugilistic nature that it has so long held on to. I don’t want to “let go” and relax, and yet I persist, listening to the sea of breath around me. I hear the echoes of chaos within slowly fading into the waves of breathing and the subtle sounds of all the bodies coming to a place of rest. I wonder with each breath if anyone else struggles to just sit quietly, and then it comes to me suddenly, silently, it doesn’t matter! This is my place on my mat. This is my time to embrace the silence. It’s my time to let go and prepare my mind for the coming challenge that I will face in the next hour and a half. I’m learning to be unafraid in this space, I’m learning to let my mind go and let it surf upon the waves in this sea of silence. It’s a place I find myself looking forward to now, and yet I know it will take time to fully embrace.

When I’m there silently melting into Sukhasana the byproducts of my busy day dissolve into nothing. At times, depending on where I sit, I can see the candlelight softly flickering through my closed eyes. I love this place, I love the sounds around me, and again, I find myself unafraid. If I gain nothing more from this experience, I am grateful to have found the ability to relax in the silence and to let so much go. As I sit here waiting for tonight’s practice I am craving those minutes of peace. I know my knee is getting better, and I feel less residual pain from my life of abusing this vessel I was given, but I am quickly seeing that there is so much more to this process than just the physical gain. In those minutes in Sukhasana I am awaken by the deafening silence that surrounds me.