Monkey Mind

“Have your right foot meet your left at the back of the mat and bow forward hinging from your hips. Wrap your first two fingers around your big toe… “

Woah. When was the last time I had a pedicure? These toes are looking a little less zen than they should. I’ve had issues with my middle toes in the past; they look like they should be attached to E.T.’s hand and were a complete afterthought when my feet were forming, but currently, we’re at peace.

Ok…focus. My nose grazes the cap of my knee as my upper body drapes over my legs and unfolds. Forward bends are poses that aim to direct our awareness away from the outside world so we can tune ourselves towards the inner world. But there are those days in yoga where the monkey mind, the part of your brain most connected to the ego, screams CHALLENGE! and this restless, unsettled critic steals the attention away from what you’re doing in the moment. Instead of quieting the mind, which is the goal in any mindfulness practice, you find your thoughts jumping from tree to tree like a little judgy monkey.

I look towards the sky and see the tops of the trees swaying side to side. I’ve been watching them through my window all year. As the seasons shifted, I spotted the round green buds on the branches and was in awe of the peak bloom where they flaunted their cotton candy pinks. The leaves eventually turned to amber, gold and now the trees are bare, a little more vulnerable looking, yet when you see them up close, you can’t help but notice how firmly rooted they are.

My practice deepened in 2020 when the world went on lockdown, and people stayed inside more than ever. I miss the studio and the chatter after class. I miss the mats being pressed up close to one another and brushing against a neighbour. I connected with my practice and other yogis online- working towards peak poses and new shapes and calming the mind in a world that felt really uncertain.

Spiralling my front right thigh forward, I press into the outer edge of my back foot. I feel my body weight sinking with my thigh parallel to the floor and shoulders over hips. I POWER through warrior two like a fierce incarnation of shiva with a thousand heads and a thousand eyes, like a warrior princess queen with her heart open sending daggers of light through my gaze…

Ok, a little melodramatic there, maybe.

But when my mind starts monkeying and taking me away from the groundedness I’m feeling; Robert Downey Jr. totally narrates my power poses (anyone else?), it’s a thing.

Apparently, the goal of today’s practice is chasing after a moment of f*cking freedom for the mind, past the laundry lists of things to do, past my fears and conversations that didn’t go well for me this week, past my what-ifs, and the stuff that isn’t serving me at this moment.

My arms begin to shake, and I can feel the outer shoulders working to keep my upper limbs raised in the air. I can see the reflection of the T shape in the picture frames on the wall. I close my eyes and feel the temperature of the room around me. I can smell the woodsy and spicy notes from a candle a few feet away. I can hear the faint squeals of laughter from the tenant downstairs and the sounds of traffic from an intersection around the block. Beads of sweat begin trailing down my abdomen. The heat from the pose moves me into tadasana, the “mother of asanas.” Inhaling, the crown of my head reaches towards the ceiling, and I lift and spread my toes, laying them softly on the mat. I’ve landed.

I REST. The monkey has left the building.