Autobiography of an L.A. Yogini

The Body and Me

Injury. How it changes life. How the inner energy changes. How something that has always felt like the greatest Blessing God ever gave, turns into to something that brings a sense of pain and loss of something deeply treasured. I know all the Yogi pat responses. “Injuries are part of the practice.” “Modify.” “What can you learn from this?”

How can anyone object to the wisdom of any of these responses? Yet when you’re in it, none of them are a comfort. It’s just you and your body, and somehow the physical pain and the emotional loss of  ability,  the loss of hard earned freedom (which is a loss I choose to believe is temporary) just fucking hurts. Not just in my right knee. In my whole fucking heart.

I practiced in silence alone at the park. Grateful for the yoga I can still do. A heat pack on the knee gave greater ability, until it didn’t. I noticed I practiced with infinitely more care with this injury, watchful for any hint of strain, and I found a weak link, that I likely wouldn’t have discovered without injury prompting investigation. Warrior 1. Turning that back foot in just a bit more relieved a lot of knee tension.

Does that solve everything? Nope. Jump throughs and seated jump backs are thoroughly fucked . But I did find (from the seated position)  that if I roll on my right hip and  let my left (non injured)  knee push down on my right (thoroughly fucked) knee, it protected the injured meniscus area and kept it completely out of pain. It’s not a jump back. It’s just a way back.

Someone recommended getting a custom insole to protect the knee, so today I got measured for one. It was pricey. The Yogi who recommended it, said it saved him from surgery. It will be weeks before it arrives. The insole won’t help me in the actual practice  practice, as I don’t wear shoes in the practice,  but it may help correct an uneven distribution of weight on my feet and that may help the knee. In a mild practice, I don’t feel pain until I am walking/limping out of the park.

One more thing, imaginary readers, .  . . . Something in all of this was actually  Beautiful too, and it’s regrettable to only mention this now as  no one is ever going to read this much of my 1st world yoga sulking, but here’s the Beauty . . .

At the Park, the body and me really bonded with each other. We’re both working through something, trying to keep something alive and growing, something  we both love very very much.  The body talked to me as I tried different approaches. We bonded.  I became much more aware and much more grateful for abilities I had begun to take for granted. This body and me have worked hard, had fun and we LOVE THIS. Want to keep it, and we want to keep growing, all the days of our Long Well Lives. Our dream is to have a life of just yoga, and grow in the practice, every day,  until we are 111 years young. Namaste.


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