It occurred to me the other day that I’ve been “off” for about a month. Productivity and creativity are down, and when I stare into the future of x (insert here: writing chapters, thinking clearly, having awesome yoga practices, teaching stellar yoga classes, or seemingly any activity that requires energy…even my cooking is lackadaisical) I meet a strange feeling of dismay: stonewalled. Just how do I get my groove back?
Currently in my classes we think through the relationship of movement and stillness and what it means when we turn our attention to the transitions between asanas (thank you, Cyndi). This week I focused on adaptation. Specifically how it is our bodies have to adapt to the demands of a given situation, especially in vinyasa flow – the foot shifts in degree, the stance shortens, the hip lifts or levels, the arms extend or return to heart center. We make a series of microchanges either consciously or automatically to find our fullest expression of an asana and retain our integrity. And it’s remarkable. Yoga has heightened my svadhyaya of my physical, emotional, or mental movement and stillness. When and as I flow through my sequence I am so accustomed to studying either my transition or my posture that I automatically make fine-tune adjustments. I adapt. In fact, my practice is adaptation.
Surely this practice on the mat can illuminate similar practices off the mat? My interest here is not whether I’m noticing shifts in my emotions, though this too is handy. Instead, I want to explore this capacity for adaptation, for integrity, for full expression. Creativity is the messy process of achieving full expression; it’s often found in adapting; and it’s best when it retains personal integrity. Productivity is merely the happy buzz of creative work – it’s not a given end but the actual sequence of steps that achieve stated goals. I hope that in a few weeks’ time I’ll be able to write a post stating just how I got my groove back. Unlike the movie to which my title alludes, that process probably won’t involve setting cars on fire. Optimistically it will involve lots of laughing. And with luck the little lightbulb in my head will begin to illuminate.