the yoga prelude: controlled diversion

“is everything alright?”

a friend asked me that when i told her i have to cut the conversation short because i need to run ahead to make it on time for my yoga class. 

“what do you mean?” i asked her, without really asking her. i know what she means; she knows i know what she meant.   she gave me a stare and i sighed. “yes, everything is alright. i just need to go back and try to get healthy again.”

“you need a diversion.” she said, in a matter-of-fact way. “that’s not about being healthy. that is you playing that game again.”

i frowned and wrinkled my forehead. “how is trying to do yoga five days a week not about being healthy?  this is not a diversion.” i said and pouted. “this is not a diversion; i really need to make some few changes in my life. and besides, i prepaid 100 classes already- i have to use them all, they are non refundable!”

she started to grin. “what else did you do?”

“bought a camera.” i found myself smiling at the silliness of it all. “it is a very good one. very expensive at that, too.” i paused and then felt a bit sad. “could have sponsor ten kids to school for a year for that cost. i shouldn’t have bought it, on hindsight.”

“how many plane tickets have you bought?”

dear god, she knows me too well. 

i once told someone i couldn’t write as much when i am happy; and i did not say that in an arrogantly defensive kind of way. i really could not write as much when i am happy.  i think when things are going wrong and everything turns shit, i could make a fortune in my misery.  

am i sad? i honestly do not know. i do know there was a moment, a window, in the past three weeks that i felt so empty.  that the only way to live was to ask no questions, require no answer, and just plod along and move forward.  and the easiest way i have come in terms of doing that was creating a diversion. at least, unlike in the past, this diversion is a healthy one. 

“you know that if you do this, there is no turning back.” she reminded me.

“i know. i probably needed this.”

she shook her head. “you regretted the last one.”

“i know.  i still do.” i said sadly, “sometimes.”

and so, with heavy heart, i attended the first of the first one hundred classes of yoga after a long period of absence.  i felt brittle. i felt weak. the knees wobbled. the breathing struggled. as i was lying there in my savasana, i wondered: who am i doing this for?  

the mind is only strong with a purpose.