I’m genuinely excited about the clocks going back. I know that probably sounds strange to some people.
I’ve experienced three summer solstices in a row, and it feels like I haven’t had a proper winter for two years. As much as I love the daylight, sunshine and the warmth, summer can be exhausting. Not just because of the heat, but because of the pressure I put on myself to make the most of it.
It’s sunny, so I should go outside. It’s light until nine, so I should be doing something. There are still hours left in the day, so why am I sitting on the sofa? I can feel myself causing hese mental disturbances that a yoga practice is intended to settle.
Ironically, this summer was often so hot that doing anything felt like hard work anyway.
This year, the darkness brings me a kind of relief. Permission to stop. To slow down. To spend an evening doing very little without feeling that I’m wasting an opportunity.
I’ve always enjoyed the effort. Pushing myself physically, setting targets, finding the next challenge. Rest and recovery have often felt like the things I need to fit around all of that, rather than an important part of it.
But I’m beginning to appreciate that recovery isn’t something I earn by doing enough. It’s part of what allows me to keep going.
There’s a concept in yoga called Ishvara pranidhana, often translated as surrender. It’s not about giving up or abandoning ambition. It’s about letting go of the need to control everything, including how things should look and what you think you ought to be doing.
That feels particularly relevant to me at the moment.
Last night, I found myself putting some of this into practice without really planning to.
When I started my yoga practice, I put a Lavendar eye pillow over my eyes and forehead to help me settle in. And then I realised something. I was enjoying the respite of shutting out the world so much that I kept my eyes closed for the entire practice.
No getting distracted by my surroundings. Just the movement, the breath and the experience of being there (and the unsteadiness of Trikonasana (triangle))!.
It was a small thing, but it felt like exactly what I needed.
I’ll be practicing more with my eyes closed this winter.
This year, rather than wishing ahead to next summer, I’ll see what happens when I embrace darkness.
