Home' Nova National : July 2010 Contents 23
Or, do what I did. Don ear plugs,
and read, and then shut my door against
the hissed argument, and sleep.
I have come a long way. Once
upon a time, this situation would have
overwhelmed me like a tsunami. I would
have wept, right in the middle of the
pair of them, begged them to stop, and
they would have, worried for my sanity.
However, an intense yoga practice
has helped me find myself, discover the
liquid, but still, core of me that is strong.
Once upon a time I would have
angered at being unable to do Downward
Dog perfectly. Now, I acknowledge that
my heels still aren't down, I resemble
a table more than a jackknife, and it's
amusing rather than hateful. I am blessed
with a yoga teacher who makes a joke
out of difficult postures.
I take that into my own practice,
watching my mind's resistance to various
poses. "Oh no, not the Bow. I hate that."
And then I do the pose anyway and feel
my body protest and my mind groan. One
would think that after all this time, the
mind would give up and accept that it's
going to happen anyway.
But I have a stiff mind that insists
on monkey mind chatter. "Can't do that
pose, hey look out the window what
was that, I am hungry, I wish I had some
grapes, I want a pony, I want to be a
pony, how come Deva Premal gets a great
voice and I don't, what's for dinner,
should I mow the lawn....deep breath......I
want pink hair, etc."
It's that moment when the chattering
inner voice takes a breath and the mind
is still that I seek. For in that moment,
the universe is in balance, my body
does without thinking about doing, and
suddenly I find myself in a pose I did not
think I could do.
When the mind lets go, the body
follows. It all sounds mystical, esoteric. But
last night, I lived it.
There I was, beleaguered on the
computer, playing on Facebook to while
away time. Hoping against hope that the
20 somethings would stop fighting and
morph back into human beings. Their
words and distress battered at me.
They kept glancing towards me, each
hoping I'd take their side. Monkey mind:
thought 2,000 thoughts in 20 minutes,
rushing around, biting itself on the bum,
screeching like it had Ebola virus. As it
took a breath to begin again, I heard
the word "move!" And so I did. To my
Washed my face, cleaned my teeth,
applied lip balm, got into bed, found ear
plugs, got out my current read -- a set
of essays by David Rakoff. I sat with the
open book for 10 minutes before my
mind realised, "Oh, she wants us to read
now", and I started drinking in words.
I could have given up after a minute,
and lain down in the bed, fretting,
thinking, "Oh, I'll never sleep". And it
would have been true.
Yet if I sought for those small
moments of stillness, I would suddenly
find myself laughing at something Rakoff
wrote. Nothing to do with the outside
world. Just me and the book and the
page and my own thoughts.
Such a relief.
And this morning, they were at it
again in their room. Whispering, tears,
gritted teeth. Two opinions and never
the twain will meet. When they departed
to their individual days, nothing resolved,
the house, the animals, and I all breathed
a huge sigh. I lit stick upon stick of
incense to burn in bedrooms, bathrooms,
kitchen, toilets and especially the front
I looked at the dirty dishes in the
sink, the washing, the ironing, and instead
put on Joe Camilleri and sang along to
"Harley and Rose" and "Never Let Me
Go". Gotta love the Bull sisters. A few
sexy moves around the house, with only
the cats and the pup to appreciate. I
think I heard the puppy whine a little.
Distress? Artistic comment? I'll never
A quick pause to fold some washing,
and there, in the midst of a doona
cover wrestle, was that moment of
nothing, of stillness. Then I was able to
come to the computer, and with Vika
and Linda doing their vocal best
in the background, I found words.
Deep into my writing is my true
still point, when I am no longer me
in body or mind, but a vehicle for what
needs to be said, a clear bell ringing. ●
© NOVA JULY 2010
'I looked at the dirty dishes in the sink, the washing, the ironing,
and instead put on Joe Camilleri...'
'When the mind lets go, the body follows.'
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