It’s been a long time since we went camping. I grew up camping- the real kind of camping, the find-a-spot-far-out-in-the-bush off the beaten track, far-from-the-maddening-crowds kind of camping. No services, no toilet, no shower, no reception, no nothing. Except everything nature supplies. The bring-everything-you-need kind of camping, including a shovel for when nature calls and plenty of water.
However once we had kids, camping became more of a hassle for these particular Yogi’s, more than we ( ok, I ) could imagine getting excited about. Hassles like sleep deprivation, like kids that liked to wander- but weren’t old enough to safely, like nappies and poo and no baths for days on end. Like the thought of tackling motherhood insomnia/ hyper vigilance on seriously uncomfortable camping mats, whinging kids on a long road trip, etc etc.
But recently the call of the desert returned in an intense way, and I wanted more than anything to take the family to the Outback, away from the easy green of our country home, away from the Thermomix and the I-gadgets and Mine-craft. Away from all comforts including my lovely little warm, flat and dry yoga studio at home.
The thing about a daily self practice in Yoga, if I am quite honest, is that it limits what you do in your life. It is a marvellous, transformational life practice, but limiting all the same.
‘No sorry I can’t have breakfast in bed I have to do my practice ‘…
Getting up at the cracker and rolling out your mat may be hard to make into a habit at first, but after 25 years of doing it, it’s a near impossible habit to break. It defines your life. Truly. So camping was out of the picture for more than a moon day night or two as it all seemed too difficult, and indeed quite selfish, to get the kids to wait around while we did our morning practice.
But then the kids GREW UP a little and started looking after themselves… So, quite spontaneously, we decided to go camping for REAL. With a few concessions from me (like leaving Weet-bix and tinned fruit out for them to serve themselves instead of a hot, nourishing kind breakfast.. oh the horror, the guilt, the shame ) and a shortened practice ( Ashtanga primary series only, often only to Navasana ) the kids were able to look after and entertain themselves in a wonderfully independent way. They were free to roam and wander through the bush as they liked, as long as they were within coo-eee of their parents and stuck together. The kids had fun in their freedom, the parents had respite in our freedom, and our bodies recovered from the rigours of sleeping rough and days crammed into the 4WD. I dropped the need to do all poses, everyday, and it was all good.
Here a some photos of our yoga and meditation on this recent trip to the Flinders ranges and Arkaroola. 12 days of sleeping on hard mats and doing less, gentler but utterly delightful yoga on ancient earth in sacred places.