In the next week or two, we’ll have some visitors at our home.
I was going to tell them to wait, because it’s likely that they are unaware of the universal curveball that we are facing. It’s too late, though, because they have already left, and there is no way to reach them. These travelers will take their time, having left their winter stomping grounds in Florida, Mexico and Central America in early March. On the way, they may see the Panama Canal, the beaches of Miami, and the Mississippi Delta. They’ll end up as far west as Texas, and as far north as North Dakota. A few of the early birds are already in Maine. On the way to New Hampshire, they will see brilliant sunrises and fiery sunsets, cross mountain ranges and river gorges, and battle ferocious storms. They’ll spread northward over the eastern half of the United States, and will arrive soon, at your house, and at ours. The stories of their improbable journey will amaze and delight you.
Your visitors will be lovely little birds about the size of your thumb.
The ruby-throated hummingbird makes this trip twice a year. In the spring, this mighty creature comes to the Granite State to breed and enjoy Red Sox games. The ruby throated hummingbirds may be a little disappointed in the baseball season this year, but will likely be thrilled to hear that the Sox have not lost a game yet. In our neck of the woods, the early birds arrive during the first week of May, and leave in September. These little visitors don’t even pack up any belongings. They just hit the road on a 2,000 mile journey.
Perhaps the hummingbirds have no choice. I imagine if they gave it too much thought, they might never leave their winter home. It’s beautiful down in Mexico in March. It’s not too hot during the day, and not too cold at night. There is plenty of food. And yet, despite the circumstances, they move on. They take action.
I won’t pretend to know what, or if, a hummingbird thinks, but I do know that my own thoughts can get so tangled up in my head that it’s easy to get stuck and do nothing. Especially in our current situation, it’s easy to get stuck. Sometimes, instead of just thinking, worrying or wishing our situation was different, we’ve got to do something about it. This is where the practice of yoga can be a valuable tool right now. This is why starting a practice might be the best thing you can do for your body, your mind and your current situation. No matter what that situation is, you can do something to improve it.
I talk to a lot of folks who are thinking about starting their own journey with yoga. They’ve heard that yoga can improve their lives, and their ability to handle stress. Most of them also have a list of reasons why they can’t start. There isn’t enough time. They’re too old, too inflexible or don’t know where to start. There are past injuries, new injuries and the demands of work and family. We can all find reasons why we can’t. It’s true for a yoga practice. It’s true for any fitness plan. The best time to begin is now.
It’s unlikely that you can walk into a yoga studio today. That may change soon, or it may not. The important thing is to start, right where you are. Whether you already have a practice, or are beginning one, take your time. Listen to what your body tells you. Whatever your level of experience, you are blessed with the most amazing super computer ever made: your human brain. It sits on top of the most amazing machine ever created: your human body. You may not be born to fly nonstop for 900 miles across the Gulf of Mexico. You may not spend the winter in Central America. You can, however, spend a few minutes on a yoga mat today. Take action. You are worth it.
This morning, I took an online yoga class from one of my fellow teachers. Your local studio likely has online options for you, too. This afternoon, I’ll dig out the hummingbird feeders that have spent the winter in our utility room. My wife, Heather, has already prepared the perennial gardens for the arrival of our visitors. We’re all at home a little more often, so we can welcome our ruby-throated travelers together. Let me know when you see that first fly by.
