Yoga class is no place for competitive drive. In fact, it’s rather frowned upon by yogis. My ego didn’t get the memo. So, I pushed past my limits and entered pure pain, holding downward facing dog long past my physical abilities and right into excruciation. Still, I felt good at the end of the class. Then my friend and fellow yoga novice asked me what was in my eye. I looked in the mirror. Blood. It was blood. I’d burst blood vessels in my eye from my sheer stubborn competitive will to deny my newbie status, to avoid embarrassing myself by falling mid sun salutation. Instead, I walked out of the studio breathing in wellness while looking like a drug addict.
Namaste.
No comments:
Post a Comment