The Yoga of Anxiety

Imagine you’re on a beach, lounging in the sun with your toes buried in warm sand. You glance out at the vast ocean, feeling the gentle breeze caress your skin. Suddenly, a dark cloud appears on the horizon. Your mind starts racing with thoughts: “Is a storm coming? What if it ruins my perfect day?” That feeling—that jittery, uncertain sensation—is anxiety.

It’s been a week since my cataract surgery, and things aren’t improving. The view through my left eye is like looking through a dirty window with twigs floating on the surface.

My mind jumps ahead, worrying about what might happen if it doesn’t clear up soon. Will my vision stay blurry forever? Will I ever see life clearly again?

Anxiety is probably the least yogic emotion of all. 

Instead of staying in the present, the mind detours into the future, fixating on storm clouds instead of seeing sunny skies.

As a yoga teacher, I understand the power of staying present, of feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin without worrying about the storm clouds on the horizon. 

So, when this anxiety creeps in, it’s like my mind forgetting the lessons of the mat and getting lost in a maze of “what ifs.”

Right now, I can’t even take recourse in my asana practice to quell this anxiety. No downward dogs are allowed for a few weeks. 

No lifting weights with Linda on Thursday either. 

My yoga practice, my ace in the hole for grounding me in the present, is currently offline. And I feel my anxiety spiking. 

The Peloton is helping. Exercise and breaking a good sweat every day are scientifically proven to ease depression and anxiety. So, I am doing that.

As I was being rolled into the ER, I found myself chanting Om Namo Bhagavate Vasu Devaya to myself, over and and over. 

I remembered my mantra.

I took a deep breath. I let myself feel what I was feeling.

In a blink, the procedure was over, and I was putting on my shoes and getting into the car with G and the dogs.

My eye will be what it is.

I need to remember that. I need to anchor myself in the present moment. 

I need to keep taking deep breaths and feeling the sensation of air filling my lungs. I need to focus on the sounds around me—the waves crashing, the seagulls calling—and bring my attention back to the here and now.