SOL (Heated) with Nina

Under the warming embrace of the afternoon, I ventured into the realm of SOL (Heated), an oasis where body met spirit in a dance of tranquil power. A sanctuary where yoga, in its purest form, cradled us in the embrace of gravity and grace.

Having already danced with the relentless rhythm of the PWR cycle, my body bore the marks of strenuous labor, a canvas soaked in the sincerity of effort. In the heated womb of this yoga space, my sweat narrated tales of struggle and perseverance, transforming me into a living, breathing embodiment of a torrential downpour.

Guiding us through this odyssey was Nina, a beacon of serenity, steering us gently into the depths of our inner landscape. Through her, we were encouraged to sidestep the scrutinizing mind, and instead, forge a delicate bond with our ephemeral emotions, a tender meeting of self with self.

Yet, amidst the sea of tranquility, I found myself grappling with turbulent currents. The cruel whispers of self-judgment echoing in my ears, carving fissures in my newfound resolve. In moments of physical lag, an unsettling sense of inferiority threatened to engulf me, an unforgiving mirror reflecting back my deepest insecurities.

The room, a silent witness to my internal turmoil, echoed back compassion in Nina's gentle reminder – it was perfectly acceptable, even encouraged, to sculpt the journey to our unique narrative. Despite this, a gnawing frustration clawed at my spirit, a painful reckoning with a reflection that bore the weight of disparaging years.

In the silent corners of the yoga space, I couldn't shake the prying eyes of judgment, both real and imagined. A brutal self-inflicted courtroom where I stood both as accused and judge. An uncomfortable theater where my physique was scrutinized with disdain, a relentless reminder of the perceived distance between the present and a happier, more harmonious past.

As I navigated the delicate dance of yoga, an inner battle raged on. A struggle to reclaim a sense of self-compassion, to build a bridge towards a version of myself radiating with the joy and contentment that seemed now like fragments of a distant dream.

With a heart heavy yet hopeful, I stepped out of the class, carrying with me the seeds of a silent promise. A whisper of hope, that someday, the mirror would reflect not only acceptance but a genuine smile of inner peace and happiness rediscovered.

All the best,

Fred