Small Promises

It's the big promises I tend not to keep, and of those, chiefly the ones I make to myself that fall by the wayside, usually within a day or two.  Betterment promises. I have promised myself that I would read more, run more, be kind. I have promised myself that I would not beat myself to a pulp, scrutinize my children, eat sugar or complain about going outside. 

As I near 50, I find I have promise fatigue. So it was with some trepidation that I accepted a challenge to engage in a micro-habit experiment. My tiny promise: I will do one Chaturanga a day. And if I do it, I get to celebrate and pat myself on the back and feel accomplished.

This is a chaturanga:

In this single gesture, there is stretching up and draping down, feeling the pull of gravity and age. There is hovering: a muscle-driven stillness. There is absurdity in pushing back and up, carefully emulating the innate stretching motion of a dog. But mostly, for me, there's is the doing.

I have been doing one (1) chaturanga every day for about 3 months. 

So I believe now.  Morning would feel strange without it. And sometimes, I do more than 1 (one) chaturanga.

So I am extending my practice to this... Welcome to  my chaturanga of words. I will haul myself to the computer.  I will bow down. I will push keys. I will write words. And I will do it every day. And once in a while, it will result in a post. Like this.

I'm not asking anything else of myself. That seems to be the key. I have to be able to win. And whether it's pathetic or glorious, this feels like a win. Thank you for coming along for the ride.