The middle is a strange place. It is a place where the death throes of the novice are magnified in an echo chamber caused because you lack true mastery.
In the middle, you know you want it. If you didn’t, you would have abandoned it shortly after the beginning. You know you want it–but you are acutely aware that it is not yours.
In the middle, you’ve shed all illusions of perfection. You know it won’t cure all ills, but there is still the hope for a greater brightness once you reach the end.
How do you push past the middle? How do you make this thing yours? Whether yoga or any other discipline–or love, the greatest discipline of all–the middle can look like a wasteland. Those who gave up in the face of fear of never possessing this thing they desire are littered all along the terrain.
There is no one answer, but there is a critical ingredient. Patience.
Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience. -Ralph Waldo Emerson
Genius is eternal patience. -Michaelangelo
An Idle Hand 