the way to see if your practice is working

spend time with your family

I’m currently in England at my parents house in the midst of a family gathering I organised a year ago. The relatively small house is filled with 13 adults, 5 toddlers, one baby and one dog. It’s the first time we’ve all been together in almost 20 years.

As you can imagine, delicious chaos ensues.

As I sit here on the living room floor, I’m surrounded by lego that has been happily thrown all over the room by excited 3 year olds. An abandoned Jigsaw puzzle covers every the carpet and used tissues litter every surface. Any semblance of keeping things organised has gone out of the window, dissolved into the eyes of my 8 month old niece Rosa who is sitting next to me, talking contentedly in her own language, engrossed in the wonder of a cardboard box.

My gym workouts have been replaced by ambitious walks with wriggly toddlers on my shoulders. The Pool Cottage equivalent of the ‘sled pull’ involves pulling the kids in kayaks across the grass. I dont know who invented this game but it is gruelling work. My brother and I run with the heavy weight, sweating and panting profusely as the flaxen haired cherubs laugh and chant AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!

There’s no denying it. These mini humans hold all the power.

Meal times are a frenzy. We’ve borrowed fold up tables and chairs and somehow crammed 16 people into my parents small kitchen. The toddlers sit at one end, banging their forks on the table like crazed musicians and arguing over the green plate. There are endless negotiations with the food.

My cousin Flo has invented a game for little Elodie where each bean is a person.

‘It’s the only way I can get her to eat’ she says as Elodie sits on her lap and grins. ‘I’m eating Clare!’

As the only one of my generation who doesn’t have kids, I’m self appointed chef for the weekend. Luckily I had the time and foresight to prepare almost everything in advance and my days have been filled with peeling potatoes and chopping onions and wondering how much curry does a family of 16 need.

I savour the early mornings. The first light arrives quietly. There is no fanfare of colour over a raging ocean. There are only increasingly lighter shades of grey.

~

I once heard a teacher say, ‘if you want to know if your yoga practice is working, go spend a week with your family’.

There is so much truth in that.

It might be easy to judge the success of your yoga practice on the flexibility of your hip flexors or the strength of your plank, or your ability to flick your toes over in ‘Surya Namaska’ but of course these physical accomplishments have nothing to do with the moksha (liberation) that is at the heart of yoga.

Having said that, the physical strength and flexibility cultivated by years on the mat helps me to lift five year old Ava high above my head to reach the sweet peas she’s picking for her fairy Pollen who lives in the wheelbarrow. I can confidently hold Jonie as she practices her monkey bars. I can squat low to squeeze through a tunnel of weeds at the end of the garden.

It was yoga that introduced me to physical movement as an art form. Pre-yoga I viewed ‘exercise’ as something arduous I had to do. Now movement is a joyful non-negotiable.

My yoga practice allows me to offer my family impromptu yoga classes on the grass before lunch. Even my Mum joins in.

But the most profound shift has been the patience, discernment and acceptance that has come with countless hours of meditation.

To put it simply - the things that used to bother me, dont anymore.

I’m much more able to see my family through the eyes of love, which I know sounds corny and cliched but it’s true.

I can see their magic, rather than being blinded by the things I found challenging.

Family dynamics can be hard. Our closest relationships can often be the most fraught with historical grievances and unresolved hurt. I’m also aware of my story of origin that is woven into the fabric of my being. I want to nurture these relationships as best as I can.

When I decided a year ago to orchestrate this weekend, I didn’t quite grasp the significance. This may be the last time we are all together, which could be said about any moment with any person, but as my parents get older and we are spread around the world and time is taken up with parenting and businesses and life, these moments become incredibly precious.

My yoga practice has been a preparation for this weekend.

My yoga practice has gifted me with the ability to be present, really present with my family, through it all.