The Yoga Diaries: Am I a Yogi?

Written by: Christine Boyd Miller, PhD

Am I a Yogi?

The morning sun filters through the redwood trees. I open my eyes, the dementia of dreams slowly lifting. I take my first awake breath of the day and contemplate my state of mind. No regrets from yesterday seeping in so that’s positive. I’m grateful for having remembered to set the auto brew on the coffeepot last night as the aroma of fresh Chocolate Blues Breaker wafts down the hall. I follow my nose out of bed stealthily as not to wake the fouryear-old sleeping sweetly beside me. Just as I’m setting my toes on the floor, he sits up and exclaims, “Let’s play Legos!” while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sometimes I have a few minutes of quiet solitude in the kitchen before he wakes up. It’s hit or miss. Either way, there’s gratitude so the morning is a win already.

Fortunately, for this daily uncertainty, I’m a morning person. My energy and mood pretty much flow with the sun so I can usually rally for a 7 or 8am Lego session with calm and ease. Although I do have to wage heavy battle against my inner busy person who is nagging at me to do chores and be productive. Then my inner child reminds me that spending an hour playing Lego with my son and filling his emotional bucket is a productive use of time. The added bonus is that it gives me an opportunity to practice a little self-care, which I need desperately.

Am I a yogi if I don ’t go to yoga regularly? I struggle with this question. I feel like I' m always trying to “ get back” to yoga.

Squatting low over a puddle of Lego bricks with a warm mug of coffee cradled in my hands, I elongate my spine and reach my crown to the sky. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. With a long exhale I relax my face and shoulders. I can hear my yoga teacher, Juko, say in her soothing sage tone, “Feel your shoulder blades drip down your back, ” and they do.

After I’ve had a little coffee and Batwoman has visited Zombie Construction Worker’s house for a sufficient amount of time, I focus my attention back to my spine. I stack each vertebra toward the sky, one by one. I press my elbows against the insides of my knees, palms and fingertips meeting with Lego Batwoman tucked between my pinky and ring fingers. I play around with my center of gravity as I contemplate crow pose. I press my hands against the floor offering Batwoman a reprieve, spreading my fingers wide and pushing in my thumb to make a supportive dome in my palms (Thanks, Juko). I’m almost in crow but my left big toe keeps bobbing gently against the floor. I’m not quite there yet and don’t want to tumble face-first into a pile of sharp Lego bricks so with slow careful breath I put my weight back on my feet again. As my son travels further into his own imagination next to me, I experiment with a little downward dog and plank, my face and heart hovering above the Lego sea of bright rainbow colored possibility.

Most days this is what my yoga practice looks like. I am a fulltime parent and childcare is hard to come by these days. My husband’s new job requires him to commute about three and a half hours a day and he’s been traveling quite a bit too. Our schedule is erratic and weeks pass without an opportunity to get to a yoga class. Other times, even if a kind friend offers to watch my kid so I can go, I’m too exhausted or incapable of getting my son and myself together enough to make the effort.

Am I a yogi if I don’t go to yoga regularly? I struggle with this question. I feel like I'm always trying to “get back” to yoga. I get stuck in my gerbil wheel of never-ending daily chores and then berate myself for not trying harder to make the time for a 75-minute yoga class. Then I tell myself that yoga isn’t just a class; it’s a mindset. If I think regularly about my posture and symmetry, I find myself contemplating the intention of each movement. My breaths become whole. My mind and body connect for moments of yoga throughout the day, not just all at once in class.

I spend most of my day either upright on my feet doing chores or squatting on the floor playing. On good days, I’m writing too, which takes dedicated sitting time. Over the last year or so, I’ve been slowly integrating small yogic habits into my daily routine. When I sit, I sit square on my pelvis. I don’t use my hands to get up and down from the floor; I engage my core and legs. Sometimes I go into tree pose when I’m standing still. When the energy around me feels chaotic, I close my eyes and take a few slow deep breaths. The adjustments are small enough to not be overwhelming or unachievable but profound enough to make a significant uptick in my wellbeing.

If I try to commit to planking for ten minutes a day, I will never plank. But if I’m on the floor anyway and have some space for a good stretch, it doesn’t take much effort to put my body into plank for a few seconds here and there throughout the day. It works for me. Even on more bad days than not, I spend a few seconds in plank staring at the floor in a different headspace, a short reprieve from the surrounding energy. For that few seconds, at least, I am a yogi.

Self-care seems impossible when a routine is nonexistent. However, if I can manage to work just a few seconds or minutes of routine into my day, the unstructured part becomes more manageable. This applies to everything of course, not just yoga.

I’m certainly not unique in my tendency to invest most of my energy into my loved ones without keeping enough on reserve enough for myself. After a while, I end up feeding my family from an empty plate utterly spent, depressed, five pounds heavier, and exhausted with a red wine hangover. It takes almost total depletion to snap me out of my self-careless coma and reprioritize my habits. Whenever my bucket feels full again, I take on more responsibility and obligation, suffocating myself. It’s an endless cycle that is abusive to my body and my mind. Each time it gets harder to hit the reset button. I become angry and resentful with myself.

When I get stuck on the downside of these cycles, my ability to manage time and routine go out the window. Few plans are certain and getting to a yoga class unlikely. I do have some stabilities in my life though that cannot and do not change even if I’m feeling depleted or lacking a babysitter. One is playing with my son every day no matter how poorly things are going in life. That’s just a 'rain or shine' occupational duty and such a good one. He reminds me to practice moments of mindfulness as I immerse myself in play, living briefly in some glorious imaginative space. Even if that feeling only lasts for seconds, it still matters because I feel it.

I’m getting better, with practice, at focusing on the useful sporadic seconds that make up the nows of my life. I might pause to float above the rainbow Lego sea or seek an occasional vinyasa with Batwoman and friends. I challenge myself every day to remember these available seconds of pure magic. The brief flashes of yogic mindfulness help balance out the whirlwind of uncertainty; even on the days I just want to go straight to Savasana.

N o t e s :

vinyasa - a specific sequence of yoga poses usually paired with breath

savasana - a yoga pose usually at the end of a class aka corpse pose

The Mindful Soul Center | The Yoga Diaries