Yoga poem.

Anyone tired of hearing about yoga yet?

Yesterday at teacher training, Sam said something lovely about part of growth being tied to allowing yourself release. I was probably white-knuckling a pen or my water bottle or something at that exact moment, so I'm sure I have no idea what she was talking about and certainly it has nothing to do with me, I'm totally fine THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

I mean, but clearly not.

I've always kept a very tight grip on my writing, this blog, my image. When I am not writing much, it's usually because I don't think I have anything worthy of putting out to the world (there are a serious amount of partially-edited drafts in the backlogs here). Or I was afraid to write what I really thought because I didn't want to let anyone in. Something along those lines.

Fuck that. I release thee! Here's a hastily-written poem. Welcome to my head.



YOGA POEM

I permit myself release!

I release control;

I release all emotion;

I release myself

I release these expectations;

I am more/muchier/most

I am strong palms and victorious headstands, splayed toes

five lines of energy, riotous breath

Exhaustion set aside in favor of the non-stop tremble

I am the center of a spinning top

Perpetual motion wrapping tightly 

around precarious balance

please don't let me fall

I don't recognize this person

these explosive thoughts

this strong and capable body

(I am not these thoughts, this body)

I am melting

molting

melting.

I don't want it to

I can't 

stop.