afgo! afgo?

afgo! afgo???? it happened in my favourite yoga class with my favourite teacher. it happened as i was walking in my snuggly warm ugg boots. it happened when i held a pen too long. it happened when i had too many skype calls in one day. it happened as i was tossing and turning, unable to sleep. it happened as i was swallowing the pills and potions that are supposed to “be good for me”. it happened as i decided to take the bus instead of walking.

it could happen at any time, in any afgo!

“what’s an afgo?” you ask. it’s another f---ing growth opportunity!

i was in the yoga studio, probably the eldest in the class. okay, no problem. i’m used to that. we all, with mindful attention, connect with breath, connect with various parts of ourselves and bring them into wholeness.

so far, so good.

then afgo appeared...a familiar asana (yoga posture), one i have practiced hundreds of times.

leg-up pose

only this time i couldn’t. my body simply wouldn’t move into that shape, wouldn’t create the space to live in that way, wouldn’t breathe itself into that form of bliss.

my ego took over and, instead of into grace, i plunged into anger/shame/depression/frustration. “this is not supposed to happen to me. i was a yoga teacher for years. i’m supposed to be able to practice this asana until i’m 108 years old!”, my ego cried.

wow, that voice was shouting at the top of its expanded lungs. i left the studio on the verge of tears. my heart ached with the loss of my former self, the self i had cultivated and the self in whom i found my identity. it all came crashing down in grief. and this is an afgo, for sure.

“okay”, the more awakened part of me said, “what f---ing growth opportunities can arise from this grief?”

can i grow to love this new body? can i grow to embrace what is? can i grow to release the image my ego had created? can i grow to let my spirit hold me in the present moment? can i grow to allow beauty to abound while i...all of me...changes each day? can i contemplate who “i” is really?