"Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know." Pema Chodron
I didn't go to my first yoga class until after I had my first baby 15 years ago. I wish I could say that I was immediately hooked and never wavered but that is just not how I roll. My greatest life lessons have typically needed to come at me in many different ways, from a slue of different places, people and situations. It needs to do this, on repeat, for what feels like a ridiculous amount of years for me to finally catch on. My resistance to what is good for me is quite impressive, rather unfortunate and all together extremely HUMAN. We, as humans, tend avoid ourselves at all costs. It is just what we do. We are interesting little buggers, aren't we?
So, being resistant and the all-together too quick to run from her little twenty something self that I was, that first savasana got me good. Laying there, after all that heart opening, hip opening, body mind connection, breathing deeper than I ever remembered before and being so damn present in my skin....... I felt something. It was warm and real and quiet and true.
So I bailed.
Never the less, the seed had been planted. I now was in the know. I knew something, even if I didn't know what that something was. This yoga thing kept calling me back. I started and stopped practicing a zillion times. Always missing it when I stopped and always coming home, even with the familiar resistance, to that place of breath, movement and mindfulness when I started again. Each time I would remember, even if I didn't know what I was remembering.
In my more recent years, it has been as if life decided that if I was going to continue to be so thick headed, it would simply up the ante a bit. My marriage, my relationship with my body, past hurts, fresh new hurts, parenting, finances, lost relationships and some good ole fashion crappy life circumstances....all did a great job of making it pretty clear that running wasn't going to cut it anymore.
It was in my desperate realization that avoiding myself was no longer and option, that I remembered. I could go back to yoga.
This time quickly felt very different than it ever had before.I now ached for all that was warm and real and quiet and true. I showed up when my body was in a literal knot. I hadn't been sleeping. I was anxious All. The. Time. My shoulders were hunched and my chest literally ached with scrunched up-ness. At one point I told my sister that I was scared to open my arms wide. I was scared I would crack.
I showed up anyway.
It wasn't as if the angels started singing or that a light shone down upon me or that I had an glorious dramatic epiphany. It was more that each time I rolled out my mat, there was an undeniable knowing. I knew that what I had been trying to avoid for so long, was exactly where I'd find what I was looking for. It was time to stick with myself. It was time to breath through the discomfort. It was time to listen. Little by slowly as I kept moving and listening & breathing and moving more.... I started to find the strength and grounding I needed to simply, open.
Yoga has become about meeting myself on that mat. Whether I am feeling open and even when I want to avoid and run, I am committed to sticking with myself. I move, breathe, listen, and serve - on repeat. I let yoga do it's thing. I let it remind me of what I already know.
Today I practice, and teach, in honor of all that is warm and real and quiet and true.