The Season of Our Practice

It’s that time of year, the transition between seasons. It’s always an interesting dance. The coming season steps onto the dance floor ready to lead, only to find the season already on the floor is not quite ready to let go. So, for a while, they share the lead, taking turns. It’s a beautiful dance to witness; there’s a lot one can learn about letting go and embracing what is next.

Spring is the season of renewal, bringing an abundance of new life and waves of new energy and hope. We witness out of the darkest of days, light re-emerging, carrying the reminder that all things are possible. What may have been dormant for one or more seasons, begins to surface yet again.

Specifically, where I live in northwestern Montana, the ground is buried under snow for long periods of time. When the snow begins to melt, it feels like a big reveal. You see changes and transformation to landscape that occurred during the fall and winter months. Things you knew of but had forgotten or perhaps never noticed are suddenly visible once again. It’s a fun time of discovery if you take the time to notice.

Right before our first snowfall this year, our daughter had gotten a tiny, white stuffed rabbit toy. She would carry it around in her pocket while playing in the yard. Early one evening after calling her in, she noticed her rabbit was not in her pocket. She was quite upset and worried where it had gone.

Outside, the light was rapidly diminishing, so we took flashlights out to search for her favored friend. Initially I was quite hopeful. Our yard was still covered with brown and golden leaves so I was quite certain it would be easy to find the white rabbit. Unfortunately, our search was futile. Seeing the disappointment on our daughter’s face, I assured her we would look again the next day, even more certain we would find it during daylight.

However, the next day yielded the same results. In trying to reconcile her sadness, I assured her that it was still out there somewhere, and that we would eventually find it. Even if we had to wait until spring and after the snowmelt.

The next day it snowed. It was now guaranteed that her rabbit would settle into the slumber of winter, safely nestled somewhere in our yard.

About a week ago, warmer weather arrived in our area and the snow began to melt. Within just a few days, all the snow in our yard was gone. I joked that it was only a matter of time before her rabbit would reveal itself. And wouldn’t you know it? A small spot in our yard where the snow was the very last to melt, was where her rabbit lay.

Her rabbit was never lost. It had simply been covered up and waiting for just the right moment to be revealed. The best part was witnessing the exuberant joy and squeals of delight this small finding brought to my daughter.

It is very much the same in our yoga practice. Yoga does not change what is inside of us. It simply reveals what's been there all along, gradually removing what’s been covering it up. Each time we step onto the mat or come to sit in mediation, a layer of concealment begins to melt away. Like winter, this process has moments where it can occur suddenly, and other times more gradually. We may even begin to see something revealed one day only to find the very next brings a new layer of snow, covering it right back up.

But we’ve caught a glimpse. Now we know it’s there. As winter has shown us, eventually it yields completely to spring. We can have the same faith in the efficacy of our practice, that whatever glimpses we see, what may have been revealed for only a moment, can and will be found again.

This is our dance with yoga. Initially we may step onto the dance floor with the intention to lead, but first we must surrender to whatever season brought dormancy to what’s within. It is here, where we learn to dance with ourselves, until the radiance of our true nature is fully revealed.