I made an honest effort to embrace yoga many times over the last three decades, and tried as I might, it just wasn’t my thing. About a year ago, thanks to a kind and generous husband who built me an amazing home gym, and a phenomenal instructor I met by chance, I prioritize time for yoga most every day. At times, the poses flow through me like water and I feel like a natural. Other days, I don’t want to. It is hard work. On those days, poses that look easy are painstaking difficult. I wobble. I fall. I worry about whether I’m doing it, “right”. I feel like a fake who should stick to triathlon and leave this to the enlightened ones who know all about how to inhale and exhale at the exact right moments.
Then, I remember what yoga is all about. To be present. To be in the imperfect moment and recognize the perfection that is to simply be alive. To just breathe. One fascinating thing about yoga, is its verb form- “practicing”. It implies it will take an awful lot of work to get it right. My mat couldn’t care less if I know the official names of every pose, or even if I am doing any of them correctly; all that matters is that I keep showing up. Doing so, earns me the title of, “Yogi”. I can call myself one because I am on my journey, there is no “perfect” and I am grateful for every moment of this wild ride. My yoga teacher once told me that when your whole body is shaking and you feel as if you can’t hold the pose even another second, that’s when you are getting stronger. THAT is when the MAGIC happens. Such is life. You don’t grow by doing easy things. Challenge begets wisdom, grit, fortitude. Fate just might be sending some challenges my way very soon. And, thanks to yoga, I am getting myself ready to face them.
Although most of this yoga stuff still seems like a foreign language to me, I already understand, “Namaste”. ~(The love and the light in me recognizes and honors that same love and light within you.)