A love letter to king pigeon
To my dearest one,
I should start with an apology, as a good love letter should do. An acknowledgement of one’s weaknesses and a declaration to do better can often mask our inadequacies, so hopefully I’ve gotten away with it this time.
I’m sorry that I haven’t practised you more. Being able to tie me down to regular practice was tricky enough to begin with (and when we enter the chaos that the weekends bring, often it’s a bit of a free for all) so coming back to one pose regularly doesn’t come easy to me; so I want you to know that it’s not you, it’s me. It’s something that I want to work on and will work on for the future, so I my first promise is that you’ll be seeing a lot more of me in the upcoming evenings.
I’m sorry I take you for granted. Anatomically for me, you are a pose that I can get into with relative ease (god bless these open hips), so I’ll find myself hopping into you without the thanks and grace that you really deserve.
You deserve patience, a slow and gentle descent, readjustment and deep breathe into the fiery warmth. Only recently when I’ve been holding onto some emotional trauma have I been giving you the respect you deserve.
Have I ever told you the story of how I fell deeply, madly in love with you?
It was five years ago in my third and final university bedroom. Crammed between a single bed and an Ikea desk, I extended out on a rug, not a mat, and practised Sun Salutations from pictures I found online. I had been to one class before but had never encountered you, so seeing your shape on my beaten up laptop screen was like seeing a new squeeze on a dating app. You were proud, tall and looked good – everything I was after in those days. I desperately needed validation from others and looking the part was certainly high on my agenda. But when I first sank into you, readjusted my hips to look like the girl in the picture, I was forced to be in my body. I was forced to focus on my alignment otherwise my knees would twinge, I was forced to be present, truly present for the first time. I had to catch my breath as tears welled and threatened to spill, but at the time I wasn’t ready, so I forced them back.
You made me see me, and with your hand in mine I started my yoga journey.
I treated you unkindly.
This is a big one, as it’s hard to acknowledge when you have been unkind or unfair to someone else when you are building yourself into a positive, loving, healer, but alas; mistakes can happen. We are all human and it’s from these mistakes and acknowledgements that we grow. I rushed and pushed you further than I needed to because of my natural openness, without warming up or loosening properly. I pulled muscles in my back, twanged ligaments in my knees and cursed your name, all from my own lack of awareness/presence in my own body.
Loving you was difficult because I wasn’t loving myself, instead, I was forcing and rushing to be in a place that my body just wasn’t ready for. I’m learning to take my time and this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you, so for that I am so grateful.
I hope that you don’t find this letter too self-deprecating or even cowardly, I am not trying to creep around you for forgiveness. I want you to know how important you are to me and that I am now fully committed to seeing you more, being more grateful and to treat you with the same loving kindness that you showed me.
You are the pose I look forward to the most after a hectic vinyasa flow.
You are the one where I fully connect to the earth below me.
You are the one who I turn to, to pick me up when I fall.
You have my heart, always.