From late February through most of March, I was living on my own because my wife went to Peru to spend some time with her parents, especially her dad who is getting on in years and can’t visit the States like her mom. I could have pretended that I was a bachelor for four weeks. Instead, I turned my “solitude” into my own private yoga retreat — with the obvious caveat that I still work a 9 to 5:30 job. I had plans to intensify my practice, do dozens of daily sun salutations, meditate like a monk and read through several books and magazines.
Unfortunately, I got a cold the first week of March and that spoiled a lot of the momentum I was building up in my physical practice. But I did a lot of reading, writing and thinking. Some of that reflection found its way into longer pieces that appeared on this site (A Confession and How yoga has changed my life ). This private retreat coincided with the first anniversary of getting serious about yoga. So it was a natural opportunity for taking stock.
I learned that any failure to get deeper into yoga — or life in general — was not my wife’s fault: i.e., demanding attention from her husband or making supper too late to fit in the practice schedule. At least, that was my lazy mental crutch for explaining my own failings. The month of “solitude” reinforced the idea that maintaining my priorities and acting on them daily yields benefits.