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I live for my morning cup of coffee. In some cases I get delighted about going to bed in the evening simply because it suggests I can awaken and consume coffee. When my alarm goes off, I climb up into my terrycloth robe and shuffle downstairs, my dog Ellie at my heels. I savor every part of my morning habit, from the very first whiff of the ground beans as I scoop them out of their tin, to the peaceful sitting while I await my coffee to brew. I take my mug to the sofa and get ready for the first sip, which seems like my own personal minute with God. Ellie puts her head on my lap and we sit there in silence in our little church by the window.

This blessed time provides me the space to be with myself, it encourages me to hear me — the voices in my head are too sleepy to chime in with their usual program and commentary. Which’s a good thing because I like to invest my mornings not doing anything in particular. If I am in the mood, I’ll putter around my house and have the tendency to this or that. Perhaps I’ll water the plants … or not. Maybe I’ll compose … or not. The rest of my day is directed by obligation– things I need to do, or “need to” do– which makes the guiltless minutes of my morning feel much more valuable.

Our home practice can be a lot like my treasured morning time. No one telling us exactly what to do. No program to follow. It’s just you and your breath because automobile we call the body, cruisin’ any place you wanna go. You call the shots, like “No backbends today!”

Follow your intuition

A home practice can promote a deeper relationship with our instinct. Your practice can be whatever you desire or require it to be, since the only person you’ve to answer to is YOU.

Perhaps, in a harsh twist of irony, this is why numerous of us have a hard time to dedicate to a home practice, we could fear that, left on our own, we will not know exactly what to do. How can we practice if we don’t have a series to follow, or if we do not understand the form, or if we simply have no idea what we are doing? Our instructors advise (even insist) on a home practice, but we just can’t get it together. This causes guilt. Sense of guilt makes it nearly impossible to obtain anything done. And so we pull out, relying instead on our instructor to lead us through our experience. Exactly what’s wrong with that, anyhow? Do not we navigate with sufficient selections in our daily life? I am sure, like me, you have thought, “Can’t someone please simply inform me what to do?”

I entirely get it. I, too, had problem with establishing a house practice. I was armed with every reason in the book, but the biggest obstacle by far was the truth that I simply did not trust myself. How’d I know what to do? Would my efforts be in vain? I just couldn’t accept that I was capable sufficient to assist myself through the practice.

I slowly started to understand that I was looking at all of it wrong. It was not the practice, but my practice. It was not something I was expected to explore, however something I actually wanted to explore. My house practice began when I wanted to show up to my mat in spite of my doubts, insecurities, and excuses.

Looking to my cherished morning routine for motivation, my only duty because everyday practice is to appear. After that, the rest looks after itself. Some mornings I only have enough time for a fast cup of coffee and a few priceless moments with myself. Other mornings I misplace time and it’s three o’clock prior to I change from my bathrobe. Some mornings I get a lot done. Some mornings I get absolutely nothing done. Whether I smile as the sun kisses my face with the window, or I wallow under the gloomy skies of anxiety or unhappiness, my morning is my morning. It’s all sacred. The secret is that I appear, without expectation, because of and in spite of myself.

Finding the teacher within

Similarly in our house practice, we need just to show up. The educator within will care for the rest. Whether you simply lie there for 5 minutes (or an hour) with your eyes closed and breathe, or you discover yourself moving through an unexpected (or anticipated) series of tough positions, the point is that you’re participating with your experience as it’s right there in that moment. It doesn’t need to look or smell like the courses you enjoy at the studio. Hell, often I just roll around on the floor and practice hip openers while watching a Law & Order SVU marathon. It’s what it is. Knowing to be OK with that, in all of its flawed and ideal magnificence, is exactly what’ll bring us closer to a more intimate relationship with our Self.

Navigating our own experience drops us deep down into our own fact. Our research study in the class is changed into knowledge when we venture off on our own and try it for ourselves. The function of an educator may be to turn on the light, however the switch and, undoubtedly, the light itself, resides within us. Our house practice gives us an opportunity to flex our muscles of intuition. When we ignore the sound– the doubts, the barriers, the criticism– and get quiet, we can hear the educator within.

What routines welcome you to participate in your Self? How does, or could, your house practice welcome you into that very same sacred space? Cultivate and relish the aimless minutes of your day, when you can let go of the agenda and get involved completely with the moment. That same connection exists when you step on your mat. Just take a couple of deep breaths. After that, you’ll know exactly what to do.