Since early this past summer, I've been psyching myself up to do yoga daily for a month, a whole month. It always starts at the end of one month, and I think to myself, "This is it. I'm going to do it." In my mind's eye, I see the it happening: The house is silent and dark. I wake early and come to my mat to begin the day in sweaty devotion--devotion in the sense of emptying myself of judgement, restlessness in mind and body, cultivating calmness, and making room for something greater than myself. I envision my hour or so of daily asceticism that is at the same time indulgence. When else will I get to take this flow once I get myself wound tightly and slip into the modern mantra of "busy is productive" and striving for purpose and organization that looks (and feels) more like a frenzied mess? I always have more to give when I begin the day with that take for myself.
Here it is December first. I've yet to stick to my plan. It fizzles every time. I guess my intention isn't very set, maybe just not very strong. As soon as a kid is sick, we're up late, or I'm just tired and lazy when the alarm goes off, I'm off track. A day skipped ruins the whole thing.
So, this yoga for a month thing and Advent. It's a nice fit put together. Finding a way to refocus the Christmas getting and giving for my kids has been on my mind. We'll do the Advent wreath, read simple Bible verses with them, and hang an ornament for each week leading up to lighting the Christ candle. What about me? I need preparing, too. What better way to open my heart for the greatest Gift than spending an hour or so getting my cluttered thoughts out of the way, slowing down to listen and ground myself, and doing so with gratitude to God for the gifts in my life and a commitment to bettering myself physically and spiritually.
First Week
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