I spent the day at Yoga Teacher Training today. We practised Surya Namaskar, Sun Salutations, and spent the afternoon learning about Ayurveda, laughing about our doshas and the funny intricacies each of us shared with various imbalances (not so funny, but funny enough in the context of our discussion). We talked about how to live balanced lifestyles based on the calm, grounding philosophies of Ayurveda and her sister Yoga. I drove home looking out towards the sun setting in the sky, behind giant white cotton wool clouds feeling motivated and driven and buoyant. I visualised a fairy stone meditation I was eager to try out with my daughters this evening, followed by dimming the lights at sundown and ending the day with a hot bath and deep breathing. Screens off not long after, early bed, rest. I imagined myself deeply asleep by 10pm after this magical evening of peace and calm.
I arrived home and jumped up the front steps. Opening the door I was met with the most incredible display of tears, tantrums, anger, yelling. An abundance of yelling, from all three girls at once. Yelling and fighting and poking and provoking as only children who have been seemingly abandoned for the day by their mother can. Or is it just my children, when I dare to leave for a few hours? There was this brief moment in time where I was absolutely raging internally, wondering how to put out this fire of frustration. Didn’t they know what I wanted for them? How they would benefit? I watched as my thoughts of a peaceful and mindful evening slipped further and further out of sight. I gave the girls a bath (more tears), then hid in my room for a moment to stare mournfully out the window, breathing and waiting, breathing and waiting. Perched on the edge of the bed, fighting off tears at the thought that to be a yogi and to live a calm, grounded life you most definitely have to be single, childless and, quite possibly, residing in a cave somewhere far away from civilisation. I scorned myself for being so naïve (and my thoughts, so anti-yoga).
Then. I pulled myself together. We got the children to bed. I put toys away, picked up discarded socks, pants and undies from the floor. I put shoes away, wiped down the dinner table. Picked squashed peas from the bottom of my socks. Walked slowly. Around the peas. Ate. Reminded myself that each moment is a valid opportunity in which I can bring in the philosophies I am learning. That I am… learning (always).
And that tomorrow, we will all begin again.