"The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change."
When my forehead touches the floor, I remember to stop thinking about what's going to happen next. I remember that I'm always thinking about what's going to happen next. I think about how I'm always thinking, and then I try to stop thinking about that. I feel my back stretch long, and I feel the space that makes for my lungs to take in air. The air is a gift. That thought settles me.
My forehead on the floor reminds me to be humble. It reminds me that other people are wiser than me. It reminds me that the universe is bigger than me, and that I am not at the center of it. It also reminds me that, like a child, I am tenderly loved.
When I have pushed myself too hard in my practice, and I crouch into child's pose to find equanimity in my breath, I remember that I am not competing. I remember I am always competing, and that is a lovely part of who I am - but it is also an exhausting part of who I am. I let myself rest. I cradle myself. I settle, and remember that I am free to play. I become a blank slate, ready to be built into something new. I come back to the beginnings, the seed before it unfolds. I surrender.