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Morning Yoga

Calming the Anxious Mind

By Kristen JohnsonPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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Morning Yoga
Photo by JD Mason on Unsplash

The alarm begins to chime, rousing me abruptly from dreamless sleep. The peaceful piano notes, which seemed so soothing when I chose the tune, hammer on my ears like a gavel on a bench. It can’t possibly be time to wake up yet, I grumble to myself, I just went to sleep. But the clock doesn’t lie, it is time to start the day.

Five more minutes, my brain cries. But I can’t give in, not like I have a hundred times before.

Bleary-eyed, I silence the alarm and look out my bedroom window. Sunlight is beginning to peak up over the rooftops, bathing the world in a golden glow. As I reach for my glasses, I still struggle with the desire to lay my head back down on the pillow and chase a few more minutes of sleep. That is the anxiety gripping me, the angry, bitter, traumatized part of me that wishes for nothing more than to stay where I am. It is safe there under the covers, protected from the dangers of the outside world.

I can’t give in to the temptation. I have to face the world, whether I like it or not.

Like a corpse reluctantly rising from the grave, I push myself up to my feet, fumbling around my bedside table for my glasses. No matter where I put them the night before, they never seem to be in the same place come morning. Once I can finally see, I begin to dress for my morning ritual. Sports bra, threadbare yoga pants, and a shirt are pulled on to my body unceremoniously before I stumble out into the living room.

The kitchen is a mess of dirty dishes and empty food containers, a pathetic excuse for a yoga studio. I wish I could have a place just for these moments, a personal space that I could truly call my own. These thoughts pass through my mind even as I unroll my teal mat on the scuffed linoleum floor. It will have to do for now. One day, it will be better.

As I find a comfortable seat on the mat, I cue up some soft indie music on my phone. Somehow, the poetic words and gentle guitar bring me a sense of peace in the midst of a storm raging inside me. If only for now, I feel like I can breathe.

The racing thoughts bounce around in my head as I cross my legs, pressing my thumbs and index fingers lightly together in gyan mudra and resting the backs of my hands on my knees. As I breathe in deeply, my mind drifts to work. I can feel my heart begin to race. I breathe out, trying to settle my anxiety. In only a few hours I will have to return to that place that I despise, a graveyard of unrealized potential and broken dreams.

Deep breath in, I can do this. Deep breath out, I have to.

I place my hands on the floor, swinging my legs around and slowly pushing up to my hands and knees. As I tilt my hips back and lift my heart, I feel my spine stretch. The simple act of waving my body between Cat and Cow Pose makes me feel grounded. The earth is firmly beneath me, I have nothing to fear.

Straightening my legs, I push back into Downward Facing Dog. Thoughts drifting lazily, I imagine the sunrise from my window again, watercolors brushed in tones of yellow and pink. I yearn to capture the image on paper, wanting to stop my practice and grab my waiting sketch pad. Pedaling the heels of my feet toward the mat, I search for my anchor. I cannot step away just yet or, like a firefly in my hand, the inspiration will fly away.

My focus turns to my breath, trying to take control of the steady rise and fall of my chest. A deep sense of calm fills my chest, silencing the anxiety that always seems to vibrate deep within me. I am strong, I whisper to myself. I am fearless. The words of my mantra float through the darkness behind my eyelids, implanting on the front of my brain. Yes, I can get through this day. I can do this. I can.

Listening to the sound of the music, my body begins to take over, fluidly moving me from one yoga posture to another. The stress I felt before I stepped foot on the mat feels so far away, a leaf blowing away on the wind. All I can feel is the graceful dance of the vinyasa, my body becoming an expression of who I truly am.

It is these moments that keep bringing me back to the mat, these feelings of weightlessness and strength, connection to my body yet disconnection from the stress that encases me like a cocoon. It is utter freedom, much like standing on the summit of a mountain while the storm rages below. I can watch the storm rage far away from me, but for now, it cannot affect me. Is this what heaven feels like?

I lift my arms toward the ceiling, an offering of faith and humility as I settle into crescent pose. The fire begins to burn in my legs, waking my tired body with its satisfying warmth. Flowing through each asana, the world is silent save for the music and the cracking of my joints. But I hardly notice either. I am too focused on the practice.

Seemingly moments after I began, I settle into the final posture. Slowly, I lower myself down onto my back, extending my legs toward the corners of my mat, my arms gently resting at my sides. Closing my eyes, I settle into a peaceful meditation, disappearing within to find communion with my True Self, my Atma, my soul. Time seems to drift away, no longer touching me as I lay on my mat.

The chime of my alarm once again rouses me. This time, it does not strike with so much venom. Instead, I peacefully emerge from my meditative state, returning solidly to my body as my fingers start to wiggle and my eyes flutter open. Just as I began the practice, I return to a seated position, my fingers and palms lightly meeting at my breast. Sending up another prayer of gratitude, I relish the warm feeling of inspiration as I rise, searching for my sketch pad.

Today, I will make it through.

happiness
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