A daily miracle
I've never been a morning person and, despite 15 years of getting up early to practise ashtanga yoga, I'm still more alive at night than I am first thing in the morning.
Notwithstanding my predilection for the evening hours, I never had a problem getting out of bed; excited, as I was, to start my yoga practice that day. That is until I had children.
These days I cling to the pillow, wanting just a few more minutes of sleep, then a few more, and then a few more. I'm bleary-eyed and I feel like an old man when I finally drag myself to the bathroom and on, to the kitchen to make coffee. I look at myself in the mirror every morning and think "you could really do with more sleep".
One of our favourite teachers, Peter Sanson, always says that the hardest yoga posture is rolling out your mat in the morning; the second hardest is standing on it. It takes me much longer than it used to roll out my mat. When I first heard him say that I didn't really relate to it if I'm honest. I always looked forward to getting on my mat. These days though, I have fully absorbed the teaching!
There's a miraculous thing that happens though, every time I step on my yoga mat, while it's still dark outside and my children are asleep. There's an alchemy, a transformation, a rebirth.
It usually takes just a few sun salutations, but sometimes it can take almost the whole of the primary series standing postures. Sometimes all it takes is that first inhale, bringing the hands up, and I'm all in.
I'm breathing. I'm moving. I'm alive. I'm not a hundred years old anymore. I feel energy coming. I feel clarity coming after the fog of sleep (the caffeine definitely helps) and I feel like this is the golden time. This is the best part of the day. This is the opportunity to create vitality, well-being, equanimity, and even faith that the coming day will be a good day.
I know that when my children wake up I'll be a happy Dad, not a grumpy Dad; that I can cope a little better with whatever the day may throw at me; that I might be able to teach without judgement because of the empathy borne of my own practice; and that, as I continue to age, my body will thank me for the time I spent tending to its needs.
Some days practice can feel like a chore; something that you know you should be doing but, for whatever reason, you just can't get started.
Even after years of practice though, once you've rolled out the mat and you're in the thick of it, most days you come to appreciate the miracle of yoga and you feel truly blessed to have discovered it.
As Suzanne always says, you never ever regret practising.