A different centre of gravity

A different centre of gravity

I’ve always wanted to live a big life, and certainly didn’t want fears to limit my life’s experiences. I’ve been a ‘yes’ woman. By that I don’t mean that I’ve always agreed with people, but that I’ve always said yes to scary opportunities.

I’ve sailed seas on cargo ships and research vessels, lived in old houses that need everything doing to them, I’ve done challenging teaching jobs  … and raised three whole children.

I’ve experienced desperate seasickness, fear of being wrecked on coral reefs, terror at how much money I’d have to fix the broken bits in the crumbling old houses I’d bought, hours of weekends reading books and papers and creating PowerPoints. It’s not been a bed of roses, and there has been many a desperate moment of anxiety and overwhelm.

I’ve also experienced watching hump-backed whales flinging themselves out of the seas, eaten fresh lobster on deck as local fishermen dropped off their catch, and seen beauty and richness in far-flung places. I’ve lived in other countries and learnt other languages. The old houses have contained many happy times of family meals, sitting in front of the fire and housing muddy boots for dog-walking on Dartmoor. Teaching has been a joy, connecting with people who are learning as much as I learn and feeling that I am truly engaged in creating and connecting.

It occurs to me recently that I have lived a big enough life for me. I don’t want to keep striving and pushing the boundaries so hard.  I might no longer be a yes woman. I’ve been thinking about life like an arc…

My life is downhill now.

Downhill sounds awful doesn’t it? “It’s all downhill from now on”… like a descent, or a decline,  into entropy and decreasing quality of life. But maybe the ‘downhill’ is more like freewheeling on a bike. Time to enjoy the movement from the momentum and effort after the up-hill struggles. Time to take life a bit easier.

Adventures happen internally now. It’s as if I have a ton of material from life experiences to reflect on, rather than needing to go out and grab those experiences.

I notice this on the yoga mat. I no longer even try to do a headstand. I’m glad I’ve done them in my life – and remember the joy of the achievement and the pleasure in the strength and fun of it. Something tells me that it’s not right for me anymore.

I don’t compete with myself to achieve some astounding yoga asana, to defy gravity and my own physical limits. I enjoy discovering where I’m at with the poses that challenge me ‘just enough’. I’ve often enjoyed the translation of the first Yoga Sutra’s as …Yoga happens when we stop identifying with the thoughts and stories the mind makes up and stop clinging to how you wish life should be. Then you are free to be you. I feel free to be me, a woman approaching 60 years of age, and I don’t need to try to be anything else.

I also like the phrase … Yoga is about accepting the point where you are at in order to change and grow. Having accepted my age, that does not mean I am not going to change and grow. I’d like to be as well as I can be for the next stage of my life’s adventures. Even if these adventures don’t look Herculean, they may well be wonderful.

I see the correlation between Yoga Psychology and Western Psychology all the time. All the paths seem to lead to the same destination. I am thinking of Rogers’ idea of a ‘Fully Functioning Person’ not as someone who is free of distress, troubles and challenges, but someone who is open to accepting them, being with what is rather than making up stories of what they think life ‘should’ be. Thoughts remain open, fluid and centred in the moment. How Yogic is that!

Just as a physical yoga practice can stop our bodies from gripping, so can yoga psychology stop our mind from gripping.

When I was younger I used to walk over the tors on the moors rather like a mountain goat, hop, skipping and jumping over the rocks. These days I note that I am pretty careful to make sure one foot is grounded before lifting the other. I think my centre of gravity has changed as my body has aged. I am not wishing to fight that anymore – I’ve grieved the loss of the slightness and agility, and now I’m ready to accept the new needs of my body. This relates to my mind too. My psychological ‘centre of gravity’ has changed. And accepting this allows me to know better what I need, so that I can enjoy how I really am rather than any made-up stories that I might tell myself of who I am.