womankind’s yoga challenge
Day one: I set my yoga mat down next to my bed on the carpeted apartment floor. Today my yoga self-practice has to be inside. I live on the ninth floor, on a hill overlooking Wellington Harbour. The wind is howling at the windows, as it does so frequently in this city. The sea is choppy and the limbs of the Pohutukawa trees dance madly. My mind is already restless, even at 6:30am. I want to move off my mat to start daily jobs, even before my first sun salutation. I’ve learned to ignore my nagging mind and just bend into a pose.
I resigned from my job two months ago to travel and explore the far north of New Zealand with my boyfriend in a van. One of my goals was to practise yoga each day, even if that meant for just five minutes. After eight weeks of doing so my body falls into a little routine of asanas (postures). My practice does me the world of good, mentally and physically. It’s my time to check in and nourish my body: “oh, hello hips, yes I feel you, hello, wake up”. As a consequence, my mind feels calmer and less hurried when I step off the mat and into the day.
Day two: It’s only been one week since returning from our van-venture, and we have the urge to get back into nature. Early! Today my yoga practice is abridged to fit into our hiking schedule.
The wind has died down and I roll out my mat on the balcony. The ferry from the South Island is pulling into port. I hear the hum of its diesel engine and the caw of a seagull in the dark predawn harbour. On land, the first commuters are whizzing by on their bicycles down the hill next to the apartment, followed closely by a creaking bus. I start a new job next week and wonder how I’ll be commuting down the hill... bus, bike or foot?
Then I hear my breath, ah I had forgotten all about it. I settle my hands into the mat. I say silent hellos to my hips, shoulders, and neck as I stretch. Thinking - I shouldn’t be thinking so much! Today my mind is busy.
Day three: I’ve been forced indoors again this morning as the wind blows hard against the balcony door, which is pressed shut. My yoga practice on the beaches of the far north seem like distant memories today. I miss the sand, grass, and soil under my feet. To feel my body pressed solidly against a natural surface. The fresh air, the varied views, and the warm sun are also missed.
My weight sinks into the carpet under my yoga mat. I find it difficult to maintain balance poses on carpet, so I skip them, and don’t chastise myself for it. I sit on my mat, bending my legs one at a time, twisting my torso left and right, breathing with each movement. Twists and bends all feel nourishing to my leg muscles after the long hike yesterday.
My boyfriend opens the bedroom door after twenty minutes or so and finds me lying on my back in a relaxation pose. It’s a favourite with my body today, so I stay here a few moments longer.
Day four: My flatmate is awake before me and I find her on her yoga mat out in the lounge. She is using an internet yoga teacher to flow with today. We greet each other briefly; it always motivates me and lifts my mood when we practise at the same time. The wind has eased, or not yet started, so I take my yoga outside to the balcony. My flatmate’s mat is set up close to the balcony window, and we smile and wave at each other while moving through our routines.
The fresh air is rejuvenating. I fall easily into my sun salutations while watching the cargo ships entering the harbour. I stay after my asanas to complete a small pranayama (breath control) routine. I notice the ocean swimmers are out practising their morning routine too.
It makes me think how we are all focused on our breath, on our bodies’ rhythm, independent of each other, but together.
Day five: It’s drizzling before dawn and I venture out to the balcony, grateful for the roof overhead. The cool air is still, as is my mind. I can hear my rhythmic breath, in and out, waking up my body limb by limb.
Thirty minutes must have passed by the time I’ve finished. The rain has eased and slivers of dull orange glow through steel grey clouds to announce the sun. I
