I was thinking last night about yoga, and the adventures that I have gone on through this practice. I've done yoga on 3 continents, and yet the farthest journey has been within myself. Maybe I should start with the physical manifestations of how yoga has changed my life - although yoga is so integrated, it's almost impossible to separate the physical from the mental from the spiritual.
I grew up in a family of athletes - although there is some internal debate about whether trying really hard is worthy of the word 'athlete.' All my brothers played football, basketball, swam, ran, and did a variety of other sports. For as long as I can remember, my parents were at the gym every single morning at 6 a.m. My aunt was state champion in tennis, played lacrosse, did gymnastics, and, in her mid-60s, still lives an incredibly active lifestyle. Dedicated athletes. Trying to keep up, I swam and ran cross country. I was pretty darn slow, but I loved the runner's high, the camaraderie, and the ability to be out on the trails. So I've always had pretty strong legs, but have never been particularly muscular. I started practicing yoga (seriously) in January of 2012 - I had found a groupon for a studio 2 blocks from my house. A few months later, I noticed something remarkable: My abs. My arms. My back. There were muscles in places I didn't even know muscles could be! While I was busy ohm'ing, yoga was building a new me.
But even better than that, in yoga we learn to be grateful to our bodies for what they give us each day, each practice. Instead of straining to reach a certain level, to build muscle, to compete - we ask our bodies to accomplish a pose. Sometimes my body says yes to these poses, and sometimes it says no, and I have to back off. This experience of asking and listening is new to me - and it can be tough (remember, the family of athletes) - but there's a mental strength which is building. In yoga, we practice mindfulness - staying present in the moment, focus on breath, intentionality, meditation. It's so much harder than it sounds. In D.C., a place free of competition is particularly rare; I love it.
In 2012, I experienced deep personal tragedy while working in one of the most remote countries on the planet. Yoga was the only place where I could let go of the deep sense of sadness, the despair and chaos I felt. Some days, I would lay in savasana (the final resting pose) and just cry. In a world where I had to be on all the time, in a place where I felt no peace - in yoga I found a moment of joy.
As I look back on this journey, I can see tiny ways that it has changed my outlook on the world. My new sense of patience, my new ability to embrace each day anew, my new gratitude for those instants of peace. I'm not a great yogi. After 2 years of practice, I still can't do a full headstand. My form needs improvement. I dream of poses like 'Bird of Paradise.' But those things are secondary to the great comfort and joy that yoga has brought me. This past Christmas, my mom and younger brother and I all did a yoga session in our kitchen. I've made new friends, and learned new things about old friends as we practice together. I've learned about myself and about the world. This is one adventure that has no end in sight, and for that I am grateful.
I grew up in a family of athletes - although there is some internal debate about whether trying really hard is worthy of the word 'athlete.' All my brothers played football, basketball, swam, ran, and did a variety of other sports. For as long as I can remember, my parents were at the gym every single morning at 6 a.m. My aunt was state champion in tennis, played lacrosse, did gymnastics, and, in her mid-60s, still lives an incredibly active lifestyle. Dedicated athletes. Trying to keep up, I swam and ran cross country. I was pretty darn slow, but I loved the runner's high, the camaraderie, and the ability to be out on the trails. So I've always had pretty strong legs, but have never been particularly muscular. I started practicing yoga (seriously) in January of 2012 - I had found a groupon for a studio 2 blocks from my house. A few months later, I noticed something remarkable: My abs. My arms. My back. There were muscles in places I didn't even know muscles could be! While I was busy ohm'ing, yoga was building a new me.
But even better than that, in yoga we learn to be grateful to our bodies for what they give us each day, each practice. Instead of straining to reach a certain level, to build muscle, to compete - we ask our bodies to accomplish a pose. Sometimes my body says yes to these poses, and sometimes it says no, and I have to back off. This experience of asking and listening is new to me - and it can be tough (remember, the family of athletes) - but there's a mental strength which is building. In yoga, we practice mindfulness - staying present in the moment, focus on breath, intentionality, meditation. It's so much harder than it sounds. In D.C., a place free of competition is particularly rare; I love it.
In 2012, I experienced deep personal tragedy while working in one of the most remote countries on the planet. Yoga was the only place where I could let go of the deep sense of sadness, the despair and chaos I felt. Some days, I would lay in savasana (the final resting pose) and just cry. In a world where I had to be on all the time, in a place where I felt no peace - in yoga I found a moment of joy.
As I look back on this journey, I can see tiny ways that it has changed my outlook on the world. My new sense of patience, my new ability to embrace each day anew, my new gratitude for those instants of peace. I'm not a great yogi. After 2 years of practice, I still can't do a full headstand. My form needs improvement. I dream of poses like 'Bird of Paradise.' But those things are secondary to the great comfort and joy that yoga has brought me. This past Christmas, my mom and younger brother and I all did a yoga session in our kitchen. I've made new friends, and learned new things about old friends as we practice together. I've learned about myself and about the world. This is one adventure that has no end in sight, and for that I am grateful.
