I am presently on a roll. That’s a lie, I’m on a couch. This weekend, I spent a lot of time outside. I took one of my friends to St. Pete’s – since apparently I just take everyone I know there. The first time I went was with my ex-boyfriend, and I refused to do the whiney-girl “oh boo hoo he broke my heart and I just can’t even” thing. While yes, the memories can cause some butthurt, it’s too beautiful to not go there as often as I can.
I always feel amazing after I go to St. Petes. This time, we did some hiking, and we found a few cool spots to do yoga. I actually did the corny picture of myself doing a few poses thing next to that awesome flower up there. My smokers lungs had me huffing and puffing, and apparently, I assaulted my friend with thorns multiple times, because I never stay on the trails. We ended our trek lounging on rocks by the water as I watched clouds roll by. I was so damn sore, but I’m getting my flexibility back. It’s a new type of butthurt, I suppose. I also really needed outside time, and I really needed St. Pete’s again. I think I’ve actually gone at least once a month since February. /Woot. Prior to dating my ex, I would have defined myself as “Outdoorsy, in that I get drunk on my patio.” I connected with a part of me that was completely dormant. I love being in nature, and not just suntanning on the beach. Until then, I was sedentary at best.
Since October of last year, I’ve been doing yoga far more on then off. I’ve gone on a lot of different hikes, and I love taking meditation walks, too. Yoga, though, is where I am most consistent. There have been a few spouts of depression that have taken me off the mat for a few weeks, but I feel the absence, I feel the guilt. I feel disconnected when I don’t consistently practice. I keep coming back to the mat, and I find the parts of me I need as I move my body, fight the urge to fart, and sweat in places I did not know had sweat glands. I actually find if I can get myself to do some quick poses while depressed, I can help myself bark at the damn black dog.
Frog pose – Kundalini Yoga helps alleviate depression…it’s been a MASSIVE help for me, how to below
There are so many reasons why I love yoga. The most important reason: I can wear yoga pants without feeling guilty, because, like, I totally do yoga. Ironically, I typically DO yoga in my pajamas and wear yoga pants everywhere else. The other reason is incremental growth. When I practice consistently, I see changes daily. It took me a few weeks when I started in October to touch my toes. I don’t ever remember touching my toes prior to that. Now, I’m working towards almost having my palms flush on the ground, and I’ve only been back to the mat for ~2 weeks or so. Seemingly daily, my ability to move in and out of asanas improves, and I find myself excited to see what I can do every day.
Adriene (Yoga with Adriene on YouTube) says how practicing on the mat carries over to your life off the mat. “Let’s see what I can do today” has been a theme lately. Some days, I can do more than others, and that’s life. I like this open ended approach though. Instead of having a high or low bar set, I just go with whatever I can do – on and off the mat.
I always thought the whole connecting to breath, chakra, etc. was weird and did not make sense, but I quickly realized I was wrong. The other night, I was moving through some poses before bed. I was following my breath, and I could feel so much calmness, happiness, and peacefulness. When you connect to your breath and move with it, you stay rooted in the here and now. It’s damn near impossible (though my brain has tried) to worry about money, tomorrow’s dinner, and dirty toilets when you are inhaling and exhaling as you attempt to introduce your knees and nose.
There’s also a sense of confidence I have never had. I’m not even talking physically, sure I feel better, but that I can handle anything. I have been able to get through and over so much crap by breathing and bending my body. It gives me confidence that no matter what comes my way, I will be able to get through it – like depression. I did not start yoga for any of these seemingly auspicious reasons. I started yoga because I wanted a butt, and I lived in yoga pants due to the fact they give an illusion of a butt.
That brings me to the downside of yoga. You see, by doing yoga more often, I’m somehow getting holes in my pants. My favorite grey yoga capris have a hole in the butt. Admittedly, I did not DO yoga in these pants; I wore my beautiful pink Santa pants for yoga. I wore my grey yoga pants to Wawa*, and got home and realized I showed Wawa a piece of my ass. I’m glad, at least, this time it was ONLY Wawa that saw my ass. (Last time I showed a piece of my ass, I went to at least 6 different places before my daughter pointed out, “Uh, mom, I can see your butt” at my house…after I went all over the world.)
How, then, does yoga cause holes in pants? Well, OBVIOUSLY, it’s because I’m actually starting to grow an ass. Remember how I said incremental growth? Well, that applies to my derriere, mon frier! I have not written about my journey into expanding my butt in far too long. I actually wrote a piece on January 1st where I committed to a self-fulfilling prophecy (versus a resolution) and my prophecies were that “the butt would grow”. This applied both to my Formerly Known Ass: Pancake Ass and my blog. I am getting a butt. Now, part of this butt comes from weight gain that I am less than thrilled about, but it is more because I do yoga and it’s giving me a butt. I find myself randomly grabbing my butt, happy to feel it there. Prior to yoga, I had the mild suggestion of an ass. It was more as if my back got into an argument and went to separate corners. If my assets have been divided, they all went to my chesticles, leaving my ba donk quite lacking in a donk.
Not anymore! I will take all the holy yoga pants if it means there is an ass peeking out as I stumble through Wawa. Maybe this is the means where, as my other self-fulfilling prophecy went: I meet the billionaire of my dreams at Wawa. I will be there in my finest (holy?) PJ’s, and he will be there in his ascot, fresh off some yachting thing, dying for a delicious hoagie or soft pretzel. He’ll see me, and hell, maybe he’ll inform me I have a hole in my pants. I’ll thank him, and he’ll whisk me away to his yacht, where we will eat Wawa paninis and caviar.
Anyway, so that’s my butt. It’s holey and growing thanks to yoga and plodding around nature. I am appreciating new aero-dynamic pants with flow-thru technology, and the fact that I moved my butt all weekend long, and STILL got up and did an hour of yoga this morning. How about you?
*For those not on the East Coast of the US (and I feel sorry for you), Wawa is a convenience store, deli, gas stop, and all things that I love. I go at least once a day to buy cigs. I am not too proud to admit, for a few months after my separation, I lived on Wawa paninis when the kids were with their dad….
I’m really enjoying these foundations of yoga videos, in addition to my routines to help me deepen my practice, I think I linked to a playlist here.
I actually come back to this video a lot to see where/how I’ve improved, it’s really motivating: