I have been attending to how much I have efforted this week. I effort when I sit, when I stand, when I bend, when I raise my arms over my head. I am trying hard not to effort, striving not to effort, struggling not to effort. Efforting is a new concept for me, one introduced by some movement-conscious friends, and a few yoga teachers The idea is to move with little gripping, with ease, to move swimmingly.
It’s not working.
Old habits die hard.
Every time I hear or think efforting, my jaw clenches, my teeth grit, my knee jerks.
My editor’s mind screams: Effort’s not a verb. It’s a noun.
Last week I swam my standard 30-minute laps –slow, easy meditative.
Then I went to an Alexander technique class and spent much of it in the constructive rest pose – maybe 30 minutes or so. I was prone/ supine again – but after being in water, I was so much more aware of the places where my back met the mat, the weight of my flesh and bones, of the gravitas of gravity.
Oh, how I prefer floating!
Wouldn’t it be blissful to live in liquid?