There's a weird thing that happens to ballerinas around the age of 13. Calling myself a ballerina sounds glamorous, but it wasn't. I mean, I wasn't one of those glorious, waify things who danced 50 hours a week or anything. When I finally realized that I wasn't ever going to have perfect turnout, and I didn't have enough drive to force myself into it and also into, like, anorexia, I left the dance world. I knew I wasn't ever going to be one of those 90-pound sprites who fought through the politics and ended up bleeding her way, literally, into the chorus of ABT. I was more comfortable behind a novel or telling people stories. So I quit dancing. Which, truly, was a little sad, but I was 16, and I was already past my time.
The point is, I had discovered and become some things as a dancer that I wanted to hold on to. I was flexible and balanced and strong, and, apparently in some effort to replace my downright depressing turnout, I discovered this incredibly flexible spine of mine. For years I'd practiced yoga maybe once every few months, and on December 27, 2011, I woke up at 6:00 am and went to a yoga class.
The things I discovered over the months following were baffling to me: You could come to yoga no matter your weight. You could come no matter your age. You could come to matter your religion or gender or education or passions or commitments or phobias. You could come and have a few moments of solace, just you and your mat. You didn't have to be anything or look any certain way, you just had to keep breathing.
I have now been practicing yoga seriously for a year and a half. I have a special place in my heart for the little studio in Alpine where it all began, and I love every place and every teacher who I've had the pleasure of practicing with, from Bikram in West Linn, Oregon to Bikram in Lehi, Utah, to Sonic Yoga on 9th Avenue in New York City, to the place that has come to feel most like home: 3B in good old P-Town. During the summers I practice 5-6 days a week, at least an hour a day, and I remember last August when I was plugging in up to five hours a day. It's addicting, that much I know for sure. It was during that yoga marathon of a month (August 2012) when I did my first 30 Day Challenge, which was nothing more than simply practicing yoga every single day without fail. One of my teachers offered up the challenge saying, "You never know what you might discover," and in it I discovered, among other things, 3B. (I named my yoga mat "Thirty" after the challenge.)
I was discovering things like this:
And I've never seen something so simultaneously exciting and calming and inspiring. The part where she lifts herself up into that handstand you can see the shot of the city behind her just gives me chills.
I found myself daydreaming about acro yoga during history class:
I get so excited about yoga, you guys.
Like, just take a look at this:
It's beautiful. It's inspiring. It's exciting.
Yoga is so universal. In my travels around the world, I have found and been able to practice yoga anywhere I am. Yoga is healing, and the benefits range from sleeping better to weight loss to muscle toning to improving your digestion.
But for me, more than anything, yoga has helped to make me joyful. It's hard to explain all the things I love about yoga and the reasons I practice, but yoga has, both physically and as just, like, a person, made me stronger, more balanced, braver. It has allowed me to trust myself.
I think back often to the day I first began my serious practice and I am reminded of just how far I have come. There is nothing like the first time you hold bakasana (that one where you balance your legs on the back of your arms) or jump out of it into a chataranga or balance into a headstand or wiggle into lotus or kick up into pincha mayurasana (forearm stand) and I realize so often that when I began, I could not do these things. In fact, I couldn't do some of these things three weeks ago, but here I am, doing them, and that is so rewarding.
Just a couple weeks ago, my mom sold our kitchen table, so I happily claimed the space as an in-home yoga room, and I was thrilled to come home one morning from class and show off this new balance. (That's actually me on my mat on my kitchen floor.)
Yoga, I have discovered, is about so much more than being bendy. It's about discovering who you are. I'm really into dedicating my practices lately, which is something I used to forget to focus on, but I really believe it, even if it sounds a little wild. I dedicate my practices to people I love or goals I have or simply to myself and to having a good day, to being a little better than I was the day before.
There are so many associations with yoga that I have come to really love. I found myself explaining chakras (yes, they're for real, and yes, they're for awesome) and the symbolism of Om (harmony with the universe) to the cashier at Color Me Mine last week after having painted a cup with a huge lavender Om symbol and the words, "Be kind (to yourself, too). No exceptions," and "Everything has beauty." I'm an impatient, flawed person, and I find myself becoming more what I want to be with each vinyasa.
Originally, this post was maybe going to be an explanation of why I love yoga or the story of how I came to practice and love it or maybe I was going to convince all of you to also practice and love it, but I guess I don't really have the words to explain why I love it so much. It just sort of fit with me and my energy and I just can't get enough of it now, you know? I guess the point is, you guys ought to maybe practice yoga just a little. You can come with me, if you like. I'm more than happy to take you along, and I'm almost always going sometime soon.
I guess what I'm saying is this: Namaste, you guys. All the good in me salutes all the good in you.
"Yoga is not a religion. It is a science, science of well-being, science of youthfulness, science of integrating body, mind, and soul." -Amit Ray
ASB
1 comment:
Hey, soul mate. This post was extra dreamy and let's go to 3B this week and I love you and blah blah blah.
You're a goddess.
xx
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