The yoga blues

I woke up this morning feeling a little bit blue. Nothing major, just this kind of blues that sometimes shows it's face for no apparent reason. The one that becomes a more regular visitor as you mature and age.
The yoga blues
I don't think it has anything to do with getting older per se, but as the years go by and your twenties become your forties the clay which with you have shaped your circumstance is beginning to set, to harden. Earlier in life, whenever the stitch of discomfort started nagging at my supposed happpiness, it was easy to reinvent and renovate, but with the years passing, as relationships and responsibilities solidify, the more drastic or spontaneous options available to those who still have a spring in their step and whose luggage is light are no longer mine. So it's not as easy to disperse the "for no reason blues anymore. Facebook and the online universe some times do the trick, but they are after all but short lived fantasies that in no deeper sense contribute to the overall general state of affairs.
I have an almost automatical response of attaching a bunch of different reasons to this blue feeling when it comes. It's the response of the escape artist, the one that dictates that all your worries and strides could be erased if only...I know, a load of crap and a handful of delusion, I know. But that knowledge, coming from all the 43 years of experience, of living in this mind, in some ways almost makes things worse in the moment. It makes me feel besides just blue also stupid.

Being of the tender age of 43, with all the wisdom of hindsight that living more years entails, me being a yogi is the main reason why the blame strategy doesn't do the trick anymore. I can now hear the falsity hiding in the rhetoric of my mind, I now know and recognize the blues for what it is, a cloud passing by, filtering the sunlight, but the thoughts reasons and culprits are still the bulk that makes up my thought stream in those moments. And I have to admit, it was much easier to when you feel like crap, assign blame and feel like a victim of your circumstance...It's all his fault...if it wasn't for them...that idiot Donald Trump...those stupid terrorists/racists...because when I was a child...If I only was/had/hadn't...if only the weather wasn't so...if I was thinner...if I was king of the universe...
You know
Yoga has forever and effectively burst that bubble and the simple solution of complaint is no longer quite as effective. Illusion and delusion no longer able to fully cast their seductive spells and this of course leaves me more naked and vurnerable to my own shifting emotions and sensations. But yoga is also the reason I didn't go back to bed and pull the cover over my head this morning. It's what in these moments gives me strength to despite wanting to totally bail out, to instead engage in the life I have chosen.

Like the blue pill of The Matrix. Not the easy choice, no, this would be the one that forces you to see the more panoramic view of the phenomenal world and doesn't censor any of it's thorny, hurtful edges, but by intelligent design it allows you to simultaneously become comfortable staying at the edge without needing to take another pill to soothe your anxiety.

Being a yogi in in the midst of a life full of responsabilities, people and commitments, I am understanding that it is in the constant movement between feeling good/great/awesome and bad/crap/shit where I find the clay more pertinent for shaping life. So I'm molding my clay with awareness and equanimity, acceptance and action. And since it's a clay that doesn't harden, but is constantly subject to the truth of impermanence. I stubbornly choose to not give in to the temptation of complaining about what is and override those impulses to try to escape, to go back to bed and instead stay awake and follow the rhtythm of the waves of life.

Kind of like, instead of resisting and trying to silence the blues, learning how to sing it.


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