I’ve been called dramatic…
It irritates me to no end because often the implication is that dramatic equals disingenuous. In my world, dramatic simply means I feel things with a level of intensity that most people do not feel. It is completely real and completely authentic. Just big. In this sense of the word, I have to admit it, I am dramatic (insert dramatic sigh).
When I was a little girl, challenges would take me to the floor. Hysteria was a semi regular experience and it was always loud and yes…dramatic. Each time I’d experience one of these melt downs, my mother would stay up all night worrying while I eventually worked myself into a deep sleep. Come morning, my exhausted mother would assess my magically refreshed and rebooted little self and want to throttle me (I imagine.)
Although I feel things at a high volume, I also move through them at a high velocity. You could say I’m a bit like Colorado weather. Changes quickly and rarely stays stormy for long. It’s both a blessing and a curse for my internal world and for those who love me. I work to help my loved ones be patient and trusting in my emotions and I am compassionate towards the intensity of my heartaches because they are directly mirrored and offset by the enthralling amount of love I feel in this world.
Thank god for yoga. It could have been running, climbing mountains, scuba diving or wood carving, but it wasn’t, it was yoga. Yoga and more specifically my yoga mat, gave me a place to fall down, crumple, cry, struggle, rejoice…sometimes in the course of one little yoga class. I’ve healed myself and hurt myself within the four corners of my practice. It’s a container and I needed it.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still dramatic. I’m a marathon cryer and I have a feisty temper BUT I’m a little bit more balanced through this practice of breath and movement, presence and compassion. Yoga is a lot of things to a lot of people. Right now, my yoga is an act of opening up little tucked away drawers of intensity in my life. It’s a willingness to look at what makes me feel stunningly beautiful and connected to the universe one moment only to feel small and ugly and broken the next. My yoga right now is about commitment. You can’t really do commitment wrong. Committing to something promises only to take you somewhere or clarify something. The more I commit to this practice of yoga, the less dramatic (although still dramatic) I feel.
“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness concerning all acts of initiative (and creation). There is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no person could have dreamed would have come his way… nothing happens until you decide.”
-William Hutchinson Murray
To commit to yoga is not to know or have all the answers. To commit to yoga is not to eradicate the drama of my personality. To commit is simply to lean into the container of something strong and steady. The steadfastness of the corners of my yoga mat, help this drama queen, breathe a little easier. Commit to something. Do yoga. Feel things. Love people. Do more yoga.