I spent last weekend at a yoga intensive with one of my teachers in a West London studio. I knew both days would be intense (as the name suggests), involving hours of commitment and hard work. As I arrived on the first morning, I remember thinking, “Gawd, this is going to be tough; I’m gonna get distracted. Four hours straight? - far too long. No food before practice means I’ll be starving later. I won’t be able to get away with anything since the teacher has eyes on me… Lord knows how much I’ll be aching tomorrow.”

More than a little reluctance crept into my body, and I felt tired even before we settled into seated Sukhasana. But hadn’t I signed up for this at some point? With eager anticipation, with glee even?

Wish List

Whenever I feel reluctance or doubt, I think about all the things I've received and still hope to receive from my yoga practice. A few of the personal ‘whys’ of yoga, if you will.

Forgive the boring table (it was the easiest way to get them down). This wish list (not fully comprehensive) is what I came up with in one sitting:

A fairly greedy-looking list, but not at all an unrealistic one.

(Magic powers, effortless arm balances and ultimate enlightenment don't feature right now, but perhaps I’ll add them at future sittings 😛)

Necessary Deposits

Sometimes when I think about these high expectations, the wishing feels a little selfish. Since nothing comes for free, I know I have to bring something to the table to expect this wish list to come to fruition. So, what ingredients do I need to provide to enjoy the delicious benefits of the practice?

A few contributions spring to mind: (a considerably more modest list than the one above, as it turns out)

Return on Investment

That doesn't look like a bad deal when you think about the return on investment. For me, trust and patience seem particularly difficult to lay down. As for time, I hold on tightly to this precious commodity - how much can I afford to give away?

I've noticed a very curious thing happens, though, in this strange balance of returns. The more trust and patience I surrender, the more that trust and patience become easier to experience within. The more I concentrate and remain consistent, focus and consistency become more effortless to adopt, on and off the mat.

Hmmm, but what about time? If I decide to sacrifice time to my yoga practice, how can that possibly create more time? Curiously enough, it's happened. Even time itself appears to lengthen, expand, and become somehow ever more full and purposeful as a result of shorter periods of time invested in yoga.

Eventually, these contributions I bring to my practice are offered back to me in return. These attributes become themselves added to the growing list of returns. Isn’t that cool? It’s a kind of magic—the magic of yoga. Maybe I should add magical powers to this table after all 🤩

Here’s an updated visual of that wish/returns list:

Balance of Returns

How do you like the look of the balance of returns? For me, this investment is solid - the returns are always incredible and somehow exceed any expected forecast in mysterious and generous ways.

What about you? Think about your investments, whether it be in a yoga practice or anything else you care about, for that matter. How have you noticed and acknowledged your returns - have they come back to you in steady dividends, or have you ever received an unexpected windfall now and again?

There is a time to receive and a time to give. If you ever become cynical, tired or doubtful of the role of giving something up (is it time, discipline, or an open mind?), it might be helpful to know how the balance might look if we know how, when and why to invest.

Let’s practise.