The Journey of my practice

It’s beginning to feel like the Covid walls are closing in. We can now only visit Germany and Sweden without having to go in to isolation when we return. Here in the UK anywhere and everywhere north of Birmingham seems to have some form of lockdown and restrictions, Scotland is basically closed, I hear a rumour Sturgeon is putting barbed wire and watch towers on the top of Hadrians Wall and Wales don’t want the “Ingerlish” crossing the border.

In the south more restrictions around and in London are looking imminent, will the Shala have to close again, will they stop us getting on the train for non essential journeys, i.e. going to the Shala if it is open.

In March we were at least heading towards summer as lockdown happened, warmer weather and socially distanced Cul-de-Sac BBQ’s, but a lockdown heading in to winter, crap, cold wet weather, dark at 4pm and bugger all to do is not a prospect I can deal with.

For me the hardest part in summer, but more so with a winter lockdown, is the isolation and loneliness that will inevitably ensue. The Shala is the only proper social interaction I get most weeks and if that’s taken away by Boris or that nutcase Khan I’ll be spending far too much time home alone, bored with no income after the furlough scheme ends.

Technically as I’m over 50, I’m classified as “At Risk” , but personally I’m coming to the conclusion that we need to be allowed to decide what level of risk we are satisfied with taking, as Sweden continues to do, giving their people a choice and responsibility for their own health and keeping businesses open. I don’t want to emerge in months time out of a lockdown to find a wasteland, because everything has finally gone bust and closed. I had my hair cut this week, yogi Natalie cut it pretty short, as she said “just in case”.

I was going to see the Enigma concert , obviously now cancelled, but playing their greatest hits CD this morning made me think their music could easily be the anthems to this year and next, “Loneliness” and “Sadness” are poignant, piercing, pounding anthems that sum up life at this time.

I’ve been having feelings of aversion about going to the shala, it’s strange.

After all those months in lockdown, dreaming about returning to the Shala, the initial euphoria of walking back through that door seems to have worn off. My practice has solidified and become very consistent during lockdown. I finally seem to have recracked the standing up game and I’m done Surya A to Savasana via a bit of intermediate in a smidge under 2 hours.

A little over a year ago the Shala was keeping me physically and mentally alive, it was the most important part of my week and the escape from all the crap going on at home, but now, apart from still being furloughed, there is no longer any crap at home to escape from and I’m left thinking about what I actually get by going.

To get to the shala today, I got drenched by this incessant rain deluge just getting to the station, then the train was very late and then delayed and the temptation to just go home and forget it was so tempting. A year ago it wouldn’t ha e crossed my mind to abandon the plan.

But I got on the train anyway. I seem to have reached my end at Ustrasana, so I’m not going there to get new poses. I don’t need/receive that much in the way of adjustment or teaching. So why go?

Well the heat helps, practice feels more comfortable, it’s easier to focus knowing there won’t be any feline or other interruptions, but above it all it’s the community I share my practice with, people I’ve known now in some cases over 10 years, the “hello’s” , the chats and feeling like you are part of something special. After I’d finished today, as usual I was so glad I’d made that effort