Get comfortable.

Last weekend, I went to another one of the beer and yoga events at Tennessee Brew Works in Nashville, called Detox|Retox. I continue to leave the yoga classes at this event with new insight and inspiration. While the class was very different this time, as classes are when there's a different instructor, it was still good. Paul joined me this time, too, as well as a couple of our friends, Scot and Mari. There were a few less people in the class this time, which is nice in its own way.

If I could give you my take away insight in a single sentence, it would be this: Be comfortable being uncomfortable. Become acquainted with those feelings. Get to know them. Find them and understand them, and don't try to run from them. Don't work to push those feelings away, pulling them elsewhere in your mind or body. If you allow the fear or pain to overtake you, the discomfort to push you away, you're missing the point entirely. The instructor said it was necessary to work through some physical shit to be able to work through some mental shit. (This is a quote, of sorts, so forgive my failure to adhere to my Lenten guidelines.)

The howling emptiness of a life less full feels scary right now. My plans for Lent are tough. The diversions to which I normally turn are off limits for the most part. I can't eat my boredom away. Beer and wine are largely no-gos. I haven't been riding my bike since my ankle has been gimpy.

If someone had tried to warn me that the first week of Lent would be a boring snow-fest, I would have laughed in their face if they had questioned my ability to uphold my standards. I've found my guidelines harder to follow this year, insofar, simply because of the situational magnitude. I go to church a couple times a year (backslidden Baptist, I know.) and usually just to mass with friends or Paul's family. I enjoy the homilies of the local priest. He's interesting and insightful. Ash Wednesday mass brought my thinking full circle.

In the same way yoga creates space in the mind and body when you lean into the discomfort, my Lenten sacrifices (first world sacrifices, natch) are designed to create space in my spirit and soul. The removal of my aimless self indulgences are a source of discomfort. I suppose that isn't entirely bad. I find myself forced to re-engage in the life that surrounds me, to partake in moments of quietude that open my heart and mind to creativity and sensitivity. I'm doing more yoga, and mindfully meditating.

I'll emerge from the cocoon of the forty days a new woman, more comfortable in myself and in my world.