The signs of spring are showing; bit by bit the snow banks are receding, the calls of cranes are heard as they migrate back north and if you look closely at the tops of the trees you can see the faint haze of color like faded watercolors. The change is so gradual that we may not even take it in fully until one day we wake up and we’re surrounded by green. Not all change happens in this drawn out time line but many things do, especially the creative process.
I was recently listening to an interview with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love about her arduous struggle to find the title for that book. She had finished the writing after many years and was tossing one bad title after another before the right one came along. In the interview she likened this process to a story she heard about Robert Frost and his writing of The Road Less Traveled, in her version of Frost’s tale he had been working long and hard on another poem, diligently toiling away day after day. Then one day he woke up sat down a t his desk and wrote, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…” and the rest is history. She said of Frost’s and her own struggle that finding that perfect fit was almost like a reward for all the work that came prior. Well, I hope so.
Since the start of the year I’ve redefined my “job” as far as yoga goes, thinking of myself less as Yoga Teacher and more as Studio Owner. My days start early, up to the studio with the sun to work in my new office upstairs at the studio. One may not think there’s much to be done to up there but the hours seem to fill rather efficiently; whether it’s advertising, an endless stream of email follow ups or the studio itself. It feels like the last four weeks have been packed with countless little “projects” on the building itself. Small things, changes I’m not really even sure anyone will notice so why do it. Maybe I’m holding out hope for that one golden nugget, like Ms. Gilbert and Mr. Frost got or maybe, for me there is no nugget to be had. After all the effort is the yoga.
Just like with asana we make tiny changes to our body’s posture, our teachers walking around pulling your arm a fraction of an inch. Are such minor adjustments really worth it? The short answer; yes. Yes, because it’s the tiny adjustments over time that make our practice move forward. Over time these small details line up sort of until one day we are deeper into an asana than we’ve ever been, or our feet are suddenly over our heads with no fear of gravity. I know these changes are there, whether it’s the new ceiling tiles I’ve been replacing or the longer spines my students show in Parsvokonasana (extended side angle). They may go unnoticed to most but the work is why we do this practice and just like the return of the cranes to the landscape, they can mark the beginning profound transformation.
