When I step onto the yoga mat each morning, I step humbly. I step acknowledging that I will only go as far as my body can in that half hour window of my day. I understand that to ignore niggles or twinges may cause pain later, and set me back. I understand that just because today I can do a move better than yesterday, doesn’t mean the same will apply tomorrow. When I step on the yoga may each morning, I look for signs of overall progress since I started nearly ten months ago.
And signs of progress there are. They may not have been as I would have predicted, but they are there nonetheless. Had I set a firm checklist of goals, most boxes would still be unchecked, but I know I’ve shown up every day whenever possible. And with that in mind, all progress is welcomed and any assumption has long since been discarded.
I know all this and yet, in life, I feel myself still striving for that checklist. I find myself overlaying days with expectations and trying to ignore anything that niggles. I come to each day wanting perfection. Perfection means a free flowing day of ease and grace, where I can flex mind and aptitude with unerring deftness. It means floating above all chaos that life throws up and existing unscathed and unscarred by the process. In other words, perfection means striving for a world that doesn’t exist and can never exist for it would never mean that progress would be made. For without those pain points, without that chaos, there would be nothing to help your self-awareness.
And so I remind myself as I sit on the sofa tonight: today I made progress and that’s all I can wish for. And tomorrow I will aim to do the same, aim to progress not perfect myself; look for the lessons not my impression of the end goal; address the niggles to avoid any pain later and, each day, honour who I am no matter what that may be.