Every Breath is a New Beginning.

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I like to tell myself that I “listen to my body.”

I think what I really mean is that I do whatever I want.

These are two very different things. I’ve had a lot of trouble this year listening and responding to what I truly need to stay healthy, in balance and productive, and in allowing myself to continue to operate in less-than-ideal conditions. I also tend to trade out needs for wants, and this… this is dangerous. Not life-threatening danger. At least, not in the short-term. But continuing down paths that throw you off-balance is harmful, if only emotionally or spiritually.

The naughty (and therefore unbalanced) me really enjoys being lazy. She loves to eat junk food, and at any and all hours of the day. She is quite tempted by the television, plays overabundantly on her computer and isn’t outside much. She exercises occasionally, when it’s convenient (or accidental) and gives up a workout for the prospect of plans with friends (all is takes is a “don’t go to dance class, come hang out!”). She stays up late and always puts others desires and suggestions first, ahead of her needs.

Then she wonders why she is always tired. Why she can’t keep things straight at work as well as she once could, or has the potential to do. Why the tire grows around the increasingly out-of-shape center of her body and the rest of her softens and weakens. Why she cries without knowing why and feels disparaged at will. Why she feels generally bored and uninterested in life…

…I need not continue. The writing is on the wall. But the key thing to remember is that getting stuck in this rut is not irreversible.

Last night, for the first time in too many moons to count, I returned to my yoga practice. As it was, I entered the room determined to be open to my teachers words, to leave self expectations outside and to work hard (yoga wisdom of yore: the class is not meant to be relaxing; the after-effect is). These initial efforts were only made easier by the guidance of an amazing teacher, filled with patience and wisdom that allowed each of us in the room to reach for our full potential at our own level. She met each of us where we were.

As many classes do, she began with our breathing. Simple, right? No. Not simple for me. My mind started planning a delicious dinner, ran through a to-do list, reviewed the day at work and generally did anything it could to avoid stopping, quieting down and focusing on my breath.

This was frustrating and could have caused even more spin and judgment in my mind, a la ’why can’t you just focus?’ or ’ah, I can’t do this!” but instead, the teacher gently reminded us that when our mind wandered, as in life, we had infinite chances to start over and start fresh.

“Each breath is a new beginning,” she reminded us.

That hit me hard, at the exact time my ears were thirsty to hear it. It’s never too late to recalibrate, to get back on course and to reconnect with that which is important to you. Never. Too. Late.

There are months left in Vermont during which I can still walk outside, hike, enjoy the lake views, run and generally connect with the out-of-doors. I need time and space outside of four walls and central air. It’s not too late to recommit to planning meals and cooking at home. It’s not too late to recommit to exercising five times a week.

The naughty me can still come out. She can have her Sunday afternoons and/or short moments in the spotlight. But she cannot own the spotlight, because balanced me must rule the roost. To ensure happiness, to ensure productivity, to ensure that I am healthy, the balanced me has got to win this one. She at least has to fight to start over.

Because as long as I can breath, there are new beginnings.

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