I woke up 5am Tuesday morning with a better attitude, ready to start the early class. We did a gentle series of movements and then our teacher guided us out to the beach for a walking meditation. Did you know you could do that? Sometimes a sitting meditation is literally the most boring, awful thing on the planet. But a walking meditation involved repeating a mantra in my head while walking with my eyes on the horizon. THIS was a meditation I could do.
And I rocked it.
Mid-afternoon yoga began with an ADORABLE and gentle little breathing session. However, it quickly progressed into a flat-on-our-backs leg-lifting MARATHON. This type of yoga, kundalini, doesn’t always give you a heads up about what’s coming, so when we began lifting our legs I assumed we’d be here for a few minutes and then we’d move on.
We were there for almost 25 minutes.
At 5 minutes, it seemed like we’d been lifting our legs a little too long.
About 10 minutes in, my hip flexors were killing me. My quads were burning. My lower abs were cramping.
Around 15 minutes in, I gave up the will to live.
But maybe a few minutes after that, I realized I was still doing it. I was still going. And while we were supposed to be repeating “Sat Nam” with each repetition, I started to say, “I’m a warrior.” It came out of no where and I got stronger and stronger with each rep. Probably near the 20 minute mark I felt like I was dancing. The movement was easy and graceful and I felt incredibly strong.
When we were FINALLY given the cue to stop, I was on top of the world. I felt like I showed up for MYSELF for the first time in a long time. I felt proud. Elated. SO strong. And I was completely blissed out.
We entered a resting place for deep relaxation. We dipped waaaaay down into such an incredibly peaceful place that I actually chuckled when a construction crew began dumping enormous chunks of concrete into a truck directly outside the window of our yoga room.
I felt incredible.
Later that day, we visited a few cenotes (sen-oh-tays). These are little (and big) springs of water that rise up through the limestone Earth and create pond-sized bodies of water, lake-sized, and beyond. Some are 10 feet deep, some are 40 feet deep, some are 200 feet deep! The first one we visited had an incredible zip line that dropped right into the middle of the cenote and AS IF I didn’t feel like warrior-enough a few hours earlier…now I felt like a warrior that could fly.
On. Top. Of. The. World.
The last cenote we visited had this funny platform thing above it. “What’s that?” we asked the guide.
“That’s the jump.”
Yeah. The jump. I looked over the side of this platform down into the cenote, turned around, and said, “Nope.”
“I thought you were a warrior?” someone quipped.
“Not that kind of warrior,” I said.
I joined the rest of my girls down in the water…except one. Shelly stayed on the platform. The newest member of our group, she looked down over the edge at us. She wanted to jump. She planned to jump. But she was stuck. She was the ONLY girl brave enough to even stand up there.
That stupid voice in my head came back. I’m a warrior. I’m a warrior. I’m a warrior.
I climbed back up to the platform and stood next to her. She was terrified. I was terrified. Maybe more terrified. And everyone else sat quietly in the water 40 or 50 feet below us (I can’t remember how high it was)…waiting.
She turned to me.
“If I do it, will you do it?” she asked me.
“Ok,” I said. At least I think I said that. I thought ok but I am not sure; I might have said, “HELL NO,” or possibly, “Maybe, I don’t know, stop pressuring me.”
Whatever I said, it made her step near the edge of the platform. And I held my breath.
Please don’t let her jump. If she jumps…I have to jump. Because I’m pretty sure I just said, “OK.”