Some things in life come as a result of hard work; they come to us because we decide that there is some thing or experience we want to have for specific reasons and then we take the necessary steps to attain those things at all costs. I imagine that most people are like myself in that accolades of one brand or another are most often included in that list of accomplishments. Documentation or proof is necessary to fulfill that need of acknowledgement that we were able to set our minds to some feat and then one day at a time- surmount the once seemingly insurmountable. A college degree, custody of a child in a family feud, marriage to a good partner, a trophy for first place, a series of promotions that reveal our journey from entry level to the eschelon of the higher ranks, a successful business venture... These are the achievements of self will and worthy as they are of praise and approval, they are the sorts of gifts in life that we give to ourselves. While they may, at some point along the way, serve other people as a catalyst to motivation in their own lives, they are, at the beginning and at the end of it- self inspired and self serving.
On the other hand, there are experiences in life that are quite phenomenological; ways of living that show up unexpectedly without our specific request, and implore us to explore further. The types of things I am speaking of are talents that become manifest in one way or another that we never knew we had, interests that we had never considered before to be captivating, people we literally met at bus stops or in another country that said just the right thing or gave us a word of advice that changed our lives forever. And through these chance encounters our lives gain meaning and energy. From out of a deep slumber our inner Selves come alive with curiosity and vigor. The Universe in all of Her nurturing and might delivers unto us our true path. For us to follow that direction is a blind pursuit which serves no selfish material desire for gain and often times results over and over in the selfless service to humanity around us.
Yoga chose me.
What does that mean exactly you might ask, that a form of exercise chose a person? How is that possible and what good will it do to invest so much time into practicing so much? Is there not more to life? My answer to those questions are as follows:
I don't know.
All I can say is that while I have lived my life along a safe and narrow path of social achievements, doing what I have thought expected of me, there has been a vast river beside me that I have been blind to. My life thus far has been a camping trip at the foot of the Himalayas and surrounded by fresh air, open sky, life and laughter-and I had unknowingly spent it inside of my tent! But life, as most can testify, holds no consistency for too long and it was only a matter of time before some of the pebbles on the path shook lose and I lost my footing, landing my body in that rushing river delivering me to a place I have never been before. My eyes have been opened to possibilities unimagined specifically in any detail. The landscape earlier described as my campground has always been a place in my heart; a place that my inner Self always longed for. That is the place that I was meant to arrive, a way that I was born to see, and an outlook that the Universe intends me to have.
I came across yoga in that way. I was walking along that path beside the river~fresh out of college and had just begun work at my new 9-5 'big girl' job. I had attained all I could think if to acquire up to that point in my life: a drug free existence, a legal visitation order with my then 11 year old son, a fully insured new automobile with a license to accompany it, a 2 bedroom apartment in a nice neighborhood next to an ice-cream shop, a college degree, and a nice steady routine. But I was in serious trouble. My heart was breaking. I was lonely- terribly and undeniably lost I was engaging in behavior that I thought would fill the hole in my soul. I was dating a man that I should have walked away from the first time we met. In a desperate attempt to create a family I stayed. He was drug addicted and very hard to live with. After many break-ups and broken promises, and right before I was desperate enough to run away and hide, we became pregnant. That was the final straw.
I could no longer think of myself and the life I insisted could work if only I tried a little harder and didn't give up. There was a child inside of me that needed me to take care of her. I called my sister, Meghanne, and she came and got me. We grabbed some clothes and I stayed in hiding at her place until the boyfriend stopped coming around. I lived in fear that he would return and destroy everything. He haunted me in my dreams and threatened to douse my life in black paint and gasoline- drowning my spirit with his addiction and hopelessness. Dramatic, I know! But that is exactly how I felt every single day, for many days in a row. I wanted to keep the baby. Without going into detail I will say that I did the best I could with planning and researching to see if there was any way I could provide for my child alone with all the resources that were available to me. I made a clear assessment of how likely it was that the boyfriend would not come back around if I bore his child. Let me be clear when I say, I WANTED TO HAVE THAT BABY... But I chose not to and believe it or not, it was for her sake. I had her best interest at heart.
It killed me to kill her. I prayed that G~d would personally send his hand down to earth and carry her out of my womb into a better and safer place. Then, escorted by my best friend in the world, I was hollowed out by a vacuum. My daughter was gone forever.
From the depths of my soul I screamed out to the Universe and begged for relief. On my knees and down to my face in my minds eye, I prayed for a new life so that I would never again have to make that kind of decision or live that kind of way. And right at that moment I lost my footing and fell into the river. The Universe, I believe, in response to my calls, had compelled my feet to slip into a new way of life. My tears were the water that washed over me and swept me to a new and unfamiliar place.
Shortly after, I was droning around with a friend and helping her move to a new house. While there a girl showed up that I hadn't seen in months. That girl was glowing and looked so happy! She and my friend were chatting and I overheard them talking about hot yoga. It was the first thing I had really tuned into since that sad day weeks before. I went home and got the idea to look up this "hot yoga" and discovered that there was a studio less than a mile from my place of work. The schedule matched up perfectly with my in and out time and on a whim I gave it a try. I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED ANYTHING LIKE IT BEFORE IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!
The room was soo hot and class was so long and hard, but it was perfect. Perfect because it resembled that sort of purgatory I had become accustomed to living in with the way of life I had previously chosen. It was unmatched in transitory efficacy from an old way of life into a new way of being. My tortured soul found a familiar place where it could express itself while my mind learned discipline and my spirit came to life* I went nearly every day. Some days I cried in class, some days I laughed and was overcome with joy. Some days I experienced anger and rage at the heat. But I always had an experience to remember and a lesson was always learned that I could apply to my life outside of the studio.
Yoga chose me and I don't know what it means but I do know that it is a gift and it feeds me like nothing else has the ability to. It nurtures me, compels me, and unites me with currents of livelihood that I truly believe I would have missed but for the practice itself and for that I am grateful. Aside from loving the gift of yoga, I aspire to have no expectation about it lest I rob myself of its mystery*
Come what may*
I have since began my own practice of yoga outside of the hot studios in my home, at the park, or in a gym. I suspect however, that over the years to come I will return from time to time to the hot rooms.
I hope that over the course of this blogging endeavor I can convey to you readers a glimpse of the type of miracles yoga has had on my life as it continues to unfold. My future tellings will focus more on the actual yoga practice and experience itself and I will no longer step into my past moving forward from here. I will be honest as I can about the truth of the yoga process in all of its grit and grace alike*
Namaste
