I Didn't Go Walking this Morning -- Vis, Croatia

Classes have been going more and more smoothly as one day bumbles into the next (we haven't quite mastered the state of "flow", but we're getting there). I'm developing more confidence in myself as an uprooted American Vinyasa flow teacher and in my ability to playfully, joyfully, compassionately introduce my practice to people who've never experienced such a vigorous variety of yoga before.

And to not take it personally when my style isn't someone's cup of tea.

Everyone's allowed to enjoy their own flavor. Just because I detest Earl Grey doesn't mean it's a bad sort of tea. The fact that I think Original Good Earth is pretty much the best thing ever doesn't mean it's great. Just that I happen to enjoy cinnamon and orange and rooibos.

Twists were yesterday. Core was today. When people collapsed into child's pose, I tried to sneak up behind and give them back massages.

"This is what you get when you take care of yourself," I inhale, exhale press my hands into their backs. "Remember, yoga is about awareness. There is no right or wrong. There is where you are today. What you're feeling right now. Honor your body. Be gentle with your body. Inhale and direct your breath into the areas you feel the most tension -- emotional tension, physical tension, mental tension -- exhale, allow the tension to melt and flow away. Let your breath carry you. Let your breath guide you. Let it be your companion as you move through your practice."

The wind buffeted against us as we held tree pose.

"Embrace the wind. Sway with the breeze like the leaves of the palms. Allow your body to bend, to wobble and appreciate each wobble because it means you're learning to balance.

God... am I really wholeheartedly saying this? what's happening to me? Next thing you know, I'll be living in a cave and meditating for years at a time. Clad in only a loincloth.

I read my morning walk writing to my group during their savasana.

I didn't go walking this morning. My feet said no, so I said, "okay."

"Perhaps I'm supposed to listen this morning. To listen to the wind fluttering through the fan shaped leaves of the stout palm trees. To listen to the twittering, the cawing, the cheerful morning symphony conducted by the sun.

Doors open and shut. My pen scratches against my stained purple notebook. A car whooshes past along the road down the hill. Footsteps pounding against the stairs sound like thunder in this morning calm. Whispers of sleepy meditating yogis and yoginins float to my ears. Something about the schedule. Something about the sunshine. The door creaks close and the wind picks up.

"Listen, Aimee. Listen to my morning music."

One bird sounds as if it's dying. Another sounds as if it's just spread its wings for the first time and is celebrating the joy of freedom. Of flight. Of reaching a new understanding of all the exciting, beautiful places its little body can go.

I didn't go walking this morning. The earth said no, so I said, "okay."

Perhaps I'm supposed to sit quietly and watch, feel, hear the sun rise over the hill.

Warm, brilliant rays filter through the branches of the diminutive pine to my left, decorating my pants with dancing needle shadows.

I didn't go walking this morning. Life said no, so I said, "okay."

My goal is not to push against life, I mused as I watched the palm leaves sway in the persistent breeze. My goal is to be sensitive enough to appreciate, understand, flow with every moment. TO listen attentively to this breathtaking symphony so that I know when and how to play my instrument. 

Yesterday, I listened with my feet. Today, I listen with my ears.

If I had chosen to push through the pain in my feet, the "no" I head from life, I would not have heard what I was meant to hear.

I would not have been watching the conductor and might have played out of beat or missed my part altogether.

I encourage you to analyze your routines. Your goals. Your dreams. Feel the ones that you're pushing. Feel the ones that aren't coming to you naturally. Is this life gently asking you to listen a different way? To forte in a place you've been trying out piano?

Perhaps you've told yourself you must run, but your body begs you to walk.

Perhaps you've told yourself you must walk, but your mind begs you to sit and think.

Perhaps you've told yourself you must sit and think, but your spirit begs you for stillness.

Are you trying to ram your way through a closed door when life  has opened a window just beside it?

Put down the ram.

Feel the breeze --

 -- the sunlight flooding through the open window.

See the conductor.

Hear the music around you.

Let yourself climb through the window.

I didn't go walking today.

I closed through the window and listened to the birds.

Perhaps I'll listen with my feet again tomorrow.


Mario took us to the town of Komiza that afternoon. He gave us a passionate, heartfelt history of Croatia's recent past, but I had a difficult time concentrating.

I don't feel ready for this, I fidgeted with a smooth sea stone. I'm writing and reading all these things that people seem to connect with... which is wonderful... but I don't feel ready for people to view me in this light. I want to be the gallivanting grasshopper -- not the gallivanting guru. I feel like I've stepped into "spiritual leader" shoes this week. I've never worn these shoes before and they feel exceedingly odd. It's not that they hurt... it's just... well...unexpected and unearned. I'm not even 25. I feel like I have so little to share in my little life. 

I have little to share, but I have this strange tendency to share just about all of it. 

Still. Never in my wildest dreams have I expected to be called "wise". I never expected someone to say I could be their guru. I never expected people to be so affected by my words. But here it is. Happening. Now. 

How?

We drove back to the villa for lunch. I taught another class and read a short piece on forgiveness during their final savasana.

I think I'm finding myself. I found my people at the acro training in London. Now I'm finding myself.