by Yoga Studio Rook
 |
| Water Lily Pond by Claude Monet |
First, a confession. I have had a remarkably fortunate and untroubled life: loving parents, good health, erratic but mainly comfortable finances. I came of age in the 1960s when the world seemed to be our oyster, with emerging freedoms and jobs for the asking. But even so, there were always situations where uncertainty prompted stress and anxiety. I was two years younger than my classmates in my girls’ high school, and then went on to be the only female in my college—both isolating situations. Later, as an immigrant to the US, there was a new culture to navigate. As a working mother before that was commonplace in corporate life, there were uncertainties about parenting, childcare, work/life conflicts, and chipping away at the glass ceiling. I remember whole nights spent running the same loops of “what if’s”.
Time passed, and futures that once felt real and solid melted away. I saw family, friends and colleagues visited by loss, sickness, and financial hardship in ways that seemed totally arbitrary. My long-term marriage dissolved, plunging me into the unknown and into bag lady fantasies. I dug myself out of the hole, built up my relationships with friends and family, and developed a vision of a future shared with my beloved older sister. And then, at 62, she died of an aneurysm. Again, I felt un-moored, with no clear path to a future.
However, by the time of my sister’s death, I had my yoga practice and experience to support me. The loss was devastating and again my sense of my future was in a shambles, but that cycle of anxiety had been broken.
By maintaining a practice that brings me into the present and into acute awareness of my body and my mind, I believe that I dampen anxiety about the future. I even experience some degree of contentment (santosha), the niyama that “brings unsurpassed joy.” But this is not a “what will be, will be” acceptance. It hums with energy: being aware of the good as well as the bad in any situation, focusing on my thought patterns, taking steps to maintain the physical health which keeps more options possible. The most powerful and immediate antidote for anxiety is simply breathing—when I focus on my breath, that focus disrupts and displaces the anxiety loops. Experience with restorative poses and the improved proprioception from asanas helps me find a position in bed, which, if it does not ensure immediate sleep, stops the tossing and turning, and allows for rest. Gentle inversions—and Legs Up the Wall pose (Viparita Karani)—help reduce my stress levels. I think that the toolbox that is so valuable in maintaining health also helps me to maintain the mental agility to cope with whatever the fates sling at me, for as long as possible.
I feel that yoga helps me take some responsibility for my own wellbeing, while acknowledging my lack of control. It also reinforces my ability to exult in the present, to draw energy from whatever I am experiencing. And when things deteriorate—as they will—I think that I shall still draw on comfort with the present.
Today, I am older than most of my immediate family ever survived to be. I don’t know what the future holds for me. But I feel rooted in my community, I do the work, and I experience contentment with my life. And I experience very few nights of anxiety brought on by uncertainty about the future.
The lily pad that I land on may not be the one that I had envisioned, but I know that it will have many wondrous attributes.
Subscribe to Yoga for Healthy Aging by Email ° Follow Yoga for Healthy Aging on Facebook ° Join this site with Google Friend Connect
