Fluidity

It’s been the third time now that I start the new year with 30 days of yoga practice. Not with the primary intention of becoming fitter, more flexible or to shape my body in a specific way. Rather to remind myself that when I really set an intention, I am able to carve out 30 minutes a day to make it happen – even and especially on days that feel like there is not a minute left to even brush my teeth. I show up for myself every day, and it really means something to me every time.

I myself am definitely not particularly good at yoga. My tree is shaky, my down dog curved and my crane keeps crashing… But I do love watching experienced yogis flow through an asana. It’s this unique blend of controlled, yet fluid movements that even looks like some sort of dance at times. I have been wondering for a while why I never get tired of watching. I think I figured it out now.

Every movement seems to have a destination, every impulse comes from an intention and every shape it ends in seems to be a defined one: warrior one to peaceful warrior, chaturanga to updog, tadasana to crow, you name it. But no matter how perfect and beautiful the pose, that’s not what makes it special. It’s the transition that makes all the difference. At no point in time those yogis lose control over their movement, at no point in time do they simply rush into that next posture. On the contrary: every step of the way they are able to reverse the movement, change the course or hold still for a while.

It touches me deeply because this is what makes all the difference in life: Aren’t we often moving from pose to pose, rigidly, forcefully? From job to job, from role to role, from vacation to vacation, from org chart to org chart. Isn’t this why so many transformation projects fail at work and in life? We try to shape up to a stance, very concerned with the end state and how we look like, but we don’t get there in a soft and natural way. And we tend to accumulate a fair share of debt in many areas of our lives in the process.

Not able to make peace with sunk costs, we force ourselves to power through: That family trip that was supposed to be relaxing and fun, but started off with nerve-racking packing and parents yelling at each other. That discussion where we backed ourselves into a corner defending a position we don’t even fully believe in, but we’re too proud to admit that. That promotion that comes with more money and status, but moves us further away from the kind of work that brings us joy. You probably have your very own examples on how this might manifest in your life.

Inflicting this kind of force on ourselves and our relationships can make us brittle and bitter. So let’s keep looking for a way to stay fluid, moving with intention and in touch with ourselves while we make our way on this planet. Able to pivot with grace, not scared of changing direction, aware that an impulse can lead to many end points and that speed will only give us stability for so long. If we don’t learn how to find balance at any given moment in time how do we expect it to magically happen once we rushed into a new pose?

For me, fluidity is the key ingredient of life, the juice and rhythm that keeps us alive, the feeling I am constantly searching for (and that I keep losing for some reason…). If we can find a way to honor everyone’s endless transitioning in our families, friendships and work environments, we might be able to find more of what brings us balance, stability and peace.

Maybe today, you can try to find a couple of opportunities to soften and flow, loosen your grip and be open for things ending in a different state than last time. I know I will.

Lots of love,
Tanja

This text was first published in my though-letter Tanja’s Butterflies (January Edition 2022 – Part 2). If you are interested in receiving the next editions in your inbox with additional resources, you can subscribe here.