Warrior Thoughts
This post was written by my student and substitute instructor, Nancy Wilson. If you’d like to be a guest writer, I’d love to hear what you’ve got to say! Please send me your thoughts at insideoutyoga@va.metrocast.net. For now, enjoy Nancy’s post!
“It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of the rival” ─ Survivor
Many years ago, my husband and I decided to sign up for karate classes. The first 6-week session went well for me. I had enough discipline, strength, and energy to learn the katas and some basic moves. Then session 2 arrived where we were matched with partners to learn how to spar with each other. It did not go well. I quickly found out that I did not like kicking people, or hitting them, and it hurt my feelings that they were willing to kick and hit me. I did not enjoy the “thrill of the fight.”
In the military, as first responders, or in police work, the participants must learn to protect their heart, belly and head. Like the soldier above, that might be through physical strength and agility, or with weapons, shields, and armor. I fully appreciate the daily dedication, training, and intelligence that is needed by these professionals to protect our communities. In the turmoil of these times, they are indeed warriors.
And yet, the lovely yogi shown above knows that she is also a warrior. A foolish warrior, perhaps? She is so exposed and vulnerable, so unprotected. Her wide-spread arms seem ready to embrace the world, not attack it. For me, Warrior II is the most intriguing of poses. It almost feels misnamed. Whenever I am in Warrior II, I feel bold and sassy, as well as humble and grateful, and with a great desire to protect others, not just myself.
It is now some 35 years after my karate debacle. Of all that I have learned through yoga, the most powerful lesson might be simply understanding the word itself. Yoga is the Sanskrit work for “union.” Our English word “yoke” derives from that source. It means to take two seemingly opposed forces and bind them together until the duality disappears and only the oneness remains. We practice binding two oxen—or a body with its breath—or a battle-clad soldier with a person who always shows up, rolls out their mat, and loves the challenge. We have the “eye of the tiger.”