I
’ve started dreaming of the summer. The approach of
springtime always puts me in a looking-forward frame of
mind. I start planning. I feel full of optimism and see exciting
possibilities everywhere. In January I ight with myself not to
make a series of strict new year’s resolutions that I know will
simply oppress me by their dull worthiness. But by March the turn of
the seasons and the lighter days magically frees me from any such
self-improvement obsessions and instead I ind I’m naturally focusing
on what I really want to do — not what I think I should do. What a
relief, this is so much more fun!
So I’ve just booked myself onto a yoga retreat in late summer.
It’s perfectly timed so that just when back to school gloom settles
over the UK, I’ll be lying of somewhere warmer and sunnier and
immersing myself in yoga practice for 10 days or so. I’m already
looking forward to like-minded company, good food and beautiful
surroundings. In fact, I’m wearing out the retreat centre’s website
studying the photos and picturing myself there. What luxury to be
able to devote myself to my asana practice each day without any
worries about how to juggle yoga into my day (or try to juggle my
day around the yoga!). And when practice time is over I’ll have the
leisure of each evening just to sit and watch the sun set over the
ocean. I can’t wait, it all looks wonderful.
But my mind has slightly diferent ideas. It likes to play tricksBeware the whirling luctuations of the mind...even ater booking
a lush summer yoga retreat! By Victoria Jackson
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on me. No sooner have I completed the forms and sent of my
deposit, instead of basking in the joyful anticipation of this little
yoga adventure, all sorts of nagging anxieties start queuing up for
attention. What if I don’t get on with the teacher or I don’t like the
food? What if I injure myself, miss my light, or randomly decide I
hate yoga and quit my practice in the interim...?
I know that this is just some crazy safety mechanism my brain has,
thinking it’ll keep me out of danger by pointing out every conceivable
diiculty I could ever encounter. So it’s not so much back to the
drawing board to revise my plans, rather it’s back to the yoga mat
where I practice slow mindful movements, all the while watching the
thoughts that arise as a steady stream of distractions. Yoga teaches
me that I don’t have to heed all these ‘helpful’ messages, they
are just the whirling luctuations of the mind, the citta vritti-s that
Patanjali talks about.
And clearly, if Patanjali was aware of them more than a millennium
ago, they’re nothing new or unique to me. That in itself is strangely
reassuring. So alongside my suitcase, my ‘emotional baggage’ and
all those whirling thoughts will no doubt also be coming on retreat
with me. You can’t retreat from yourself, after all.Victoria Jackson lives and teaches in Oxford. She is registered with
Yoga Alliance Professionals as a vinyasa yoga teacherWatch your thoughts