Baby Steps
v.35 | On letting go, hope and tentatively toddling.
Hi hi Yogafolk —
I woke this morning to a shock — Sharath, the man who has brought so many of us together in practice and community, is suddenly gone. Oof. It aches. Words feel sparse.
The below was written before I heard the above news, and yet it is interconnected: That this precious life is dear and wildly impermanent, a lesson we learn again and again. We’re not actually born with the physical ability to let go. We develop this motor skill with patience and determination, making space for the emotional ability to strengthen alongside it. My son is teaching me to notice and practice both. Although he is now physically able to release objects from his tiny, Herculean clutch, he still struggles to let go of my hand, the basket, or the table that he’s cleverly using to help him toddle along. I can see the simultaneous faith and fear in his body as he prepares to let go and take his first steps, but instead slides down the nearest surface, messily and clumsily like a thwarted cartoon character.
And still he persists. He is learning each day to put one foot in front of the other, to stand on his own two feet, to keep practicing, trying, stretching his limbs and capacities despite the enormity of the task ahead. He is holding out hope, and learning to let go. Holding, letting go, holding and letting go.
The word in Tibetan for hope is rewa; the word for fear is dokpa. More commonly, the word re-dok is used, which combines the two. Hope and fear is a feeling with two sides. As long as there’s one, there’s always the other.
I feel this deeply these last days as I move through the layers of losses. I am hoping and fearing; holding and letting go. Rebecca Solnit, too, is keeping me in good heart company:
Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. The pain you feel is because of what you love…There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it's sunny or raining.
Let’s keep walking, okay? Even if it’s tentatively toddling, slipping and sliding. Remember, we have each other, the breath in our bodies, and the ground beneath our feet. We can (we will) collectively effervesce despite the heartache and despair.
Below, an invitation to join me at a dreamy house concert with fellow yogi Sara Melson; letting go of practice shoulds; and a simple soup to keep your hands busy and bellies full.
Yours in community,
Erica
My gal Lauren in the UK writes that Ashtanga can feel rigid or intimidating — but it doesn’t have to. Here are five myths to release so you can practice freely.
Remember to eat your roots, and hydrate to stay grounded and present. I recommend lowering the turmeric in this recipe a scoach, and adding oregano, thyme and rosemary for extra flavor. Delish topped with sour cream and Maldon sea salt.
Headings and illustrations for Yogafolk are by Leah Tumerman and Chelsey Dyer.
