on (not) meditating

Today, I meditated on why I do yoga. Or, more acurately: why I don't these days.

Because that's what I do - I don't do yoga. Or meditation. Well, I started again yesterday, but who knows for how long that will last? That's why I thought I should spend my time with some important things. So, I thought that when I do yoga, it makes me feel good; not all the way through sometimes, but most of it and definitely in the end. But why have I felt so defeated then before I even started doing something again? Sure, it's always hard to get a routine going, but that's not what I've felt these past weeks. I felt like a stupid loser only thinking about thinking about it. I went to my class, but couldn't bring myself to face these feelings alone.

Today, while singing along with one of my favourite mantras, I came to the conclusion that facing yoga lately, I felt what I felt concerning my father in the past months. (Suprise!) It goes kind of like this: it doesn't matter what I try it won't be enough I will never be enough but I'm the only one who can solve this nobody else can I need to be perfect I have to... Goes for both, my father and yoga. Thing is, yoga is just about me and therefore, I am the only one who decides what I think and feel about yoga. So, granted, these thoughts I've had are exaggerated - even when they concern my father and our little problems. But concerning yoga? They are totally inappropiate. They don't belong there; they are not even really there!

I'm just... tired, I guess. That's why they slip over, to yoga, to everything really. But that they slip over to yoga bothers me most. It's supposed to help me doing this. How am I supposed to fight this stupid guilt when it blocks the way to my armory? The backdoor again? It's so hard to find...

But I'll try again tomorrow.