I recently read a ‘yoga book’ for the first time. I wouldn’t have were it not for a yoga forum I love dearly, that has its own book group. And every now and again, the book that’s chosen is a ‘yoga book’. Even as someone who has a daily yoga practice, I had all sorts of stories in my head about what a ‘yoga book’ would be. And concluded it wasn’t for me. Too airy-fairy. Too spiritual. All things I guess I think I’m not.
And were it not for the title ‘Perfectly Imperfect’, I don’t think I would have given it a go. That title piqued my curiosity. I love the notion of imperfection and all that it conjures up. I love the permission that single word grants me to be my own imperfect self. It reminds me that not a one of us is ‘perfect’. That we are all buzzing about imagining the perfection of one another’s lives, and comparing our own unfavourably to them. It reminds me of the BS illusion that is perfection.
I digress.
I got curious. I read the book. And of course, it felt neither airy-fairy, nor did it feel ‘too’ spiritual (whatever the heck that is!). It did, in fact, make the most beautiful connection between my yoga practice, and my daily life off the mat. It drew my attention to the way I show up on the yoga mat, when poses are demanding or beyond my reach. When my muscles shake, and I want to give up. When I feel resistant to even getting on the mat in the first place. The author Baptiste made those links for me. Made me reflect on the way I show up in my day to day experience. How all this relates to the way I behave when things are hard and uncomfortable in my life. How I respond to the inevitable daily fluctuations in my moods, thoughts and emotions.
I learnt loads from that short book. I highlighted wildly as I read. I breathed deeply and slowly as I absorbed its message (always a sign for me that I’m learning something meaningful). And I came across a message that has served me every day since I read it. Something that made me feel a deep sense of relief. That helped me to re-embrace my profoundly imperfect self.
And it was, quite simply, the permission to begin again. Always. In any situation. On and off the yoga mat.
In yoga terms, if you fall out of a pose, because it’s difficult for your body, or because your focus is 'off', you can always begin again. Have another go. Fall out of it again if that's what needs to happen.
And of course, it’s as true off the mat as it is on it.
I fall out of ‘poses’ multiple times, every single day. Perhaps I’m snappy with one of my kids or frustrated with my husband. Perhaps I eat badly, or indulge in some deeply unhelpful thought processes that make me feel bad about myself and my choices. Perhaps I stop writing blog posts for a long time, even though I really love doing it, and it benefits me personally and professionally!
But if I give myself permission to begin again, then I’m never done. It’s never my last opportunity to try something again or differently. I am not defined by that misstep. I can, in the simplest, and most beautiful terms, begin again. I can reconnect with a loved one. I can write a long overdue post. I can eat better the next day. I can find more empowering perspectives.
It feels wonderful to know that’s an option. That beginning again is always an option. That failure, or missteps, or whatever you want to call them, are part of life - on and off the yoga mat. That this is, and will always be, part of the messy, changeable journey of life. That starting and stopping, that nailing a yoga pose then falling out of it is as important (if not more important) than committing to something 100%, being brilliant at it, and sticking to it religiously.
So here I am, beginning again. Back at the keyboard that’s been quietly calling me, while I’ve been busy focussing elsewhere. Back on the blog that has been patiently awaiting my return. And without a doubt, I’ll need to begin again in 15 different ways before this day ends. I may even fall out of a few yoga poses while I’m at it.
And begin again I shall. Shame and regret free. In the full and certain knowledge that this is, and will always be part of my experience.