Staying steady

I’ve been doing a lot of balancing lately. Not so much in asana–I think tree pose with a tree is the last time I really tried standing on one foot–but definitely with my breath and in my mind and heart.

I’ve been wanting to write about loss. The disruption of peace in Norway, the death of Amy Winehouse. The pain of a damaged relationship, the memory of a teenage friend who was killed.

These realities have brought me sincere sorrow in recent days, but alongside my upset has been a persistent sense of security–there is just not enough that is wrong in my life; I have too much good to dwell in despair.

It is not this way for everyone always: If I were in Norway, or a loved one of Amy’s, I would be suffering more right now. If I were the parents of my killed classmate, whose birthday is today, I would be hurting more.

But tonight, at least, I am not immediately enveloped in anything too awful, and I have love to spare. I am able to balance my concerns with my joys. Loss has a hollow way of clawing at my heart, but hope has me firmly in its grip.

I told my dear friend from Oslo that I was holding on to the knowledge that there is more light than darkness, and she affirmed that her nation has united with a comforting sense of togetherness and unity.

There is balance in feeling sadness fully and also allowing for comfort. In appreciating pain without allowing it to consume; leaving space for optimism, however muted. Balance is a core concept of yoga, off the mat as much as on, and I appreciate the slow and steady breaths that bring me to it.

I don’t know what good is meant to come from innocent deaths or the effects of addiction, nor do I understand why love is not always understood. But I do know I am grateful, for the bad as much as the good, because all of it teaches me. And I am happy to count my blessings: time with my family, a steady workflow and a bright future, the opportunity to share yoga with young people. (More on that later!)

I doubt I’ll ever reach a perfect state of emotional equilibrium; feelings rarely stay still and require frequent attention. But in the same way that a calm gaze can help me stick a yoga pose, finding internal focus–even for just the space of an inhale and exhale–helps me stay steady as I try.