I’m Smiling Again
Six months before yoga found me, my life had shifted so completely on its axis that it hurled me behind it, battered, broken, and lost. I remember so little about 6 months of my life...I know I never laughed, never smiled, got out of bed only when I had to.
On the recommendation of everyone I knew, I began working out. Adrenaline was a great thing, I could move and do what I had to do to get through the day, but by dinnertime, I was done, and snapping at the kids (who I had ignored most of the day) and my husband, and anyone else I could think of, for what ever I could come up with to snap at them for, which was usually no more than being in the same room. Then I decided to try yoga. I loved the feeling of physical strength it gave me. I felt if I got stronger physically, I could carry this burden just a few steps, just a few. I harbored the desperate thought that if I got in perfect shape, looking like the buff models on the sports catalogue covers, that I would be able to carry this burden forever, just carry it and go on. I thought...Yoga makes a pretty good body right? I can become that person, perfect butt, lose the love handles, the saddle bags, washboard stomach, have the perfectly shaped arms, everyone would notice me then, I could fake it then! I had no idea.
I loved my first class, great flow, great energy, but it wasn’t until my second that I heard the words that I will never forget “make the sound like the ocean.” I remember the tears streaming down my cheeks hearing those words, said so lovingly with such compassion, reaching out to the pieces of my heart. I didn’t know what a safe haven this wonderful place and these wonderful people were. As I focused on the breath, I started to open my hips, my shoulders, my heart center, pain came spilling out, onto the floor. I kept breathing.
Each class would do something for me, whatever it was for that day, a little more calm, a little more strength, a little more peace. My soul got a break from the relentless repetition, the relentless battering I was giving myself. I started to go every weekday. Thinking if I just get this pose or that one just right, just perfect, that will unlock this burden and it will all fall off and I’ll be free. I would get frustrated that it wasn’t working like that... I kept going, kept going back to my mat, where I was sure the answer lay, in some pose. Slowly, the real intent crept through; the breath began to work even if I wasn’t giving it any credit. I started talking to people, though in vague ways, about things I was feeling. I got help on the mat with form and with breathing, but the community of people surrounding me gave me other things too; Friendship, loving kindness, recommendations, parenting strategies, words of encouragement, and the best healing of all, the hugs! These people saw me, cared about me. I don’t know when, but I realized the change; if these people could see me and care about me, even in my non-perfect body carrying all this baggage around, maybe I could see me and care about me too. The secret isn’t in the body, though you can’t ignore that, it’s in the breath.
These days, I carry my breath wherever I go. I am not healed, I have a long way to go, but I am living my life again. I just recently got the compliment of my life. My husband said, “You just handled that situation beautifully. 10 years ago, 2 years ago, you would have handled this so much differently. You would have flipped out, totally lost it, screamed at everyone and let this one thing ruin the whole week, and mine too. Instead, you went with the flow and didn’t allow minor inconveniences ruin this special event, and you did it smiling and having fun”. I’m smiling again, and I’ve even begun laughing a real laugh again, and I’m letting the small stuff be just the small stuff. It’s as simple as breathing, but as complex as the universe. As for my illusions of the perfect body, well, they are that. Now I’m happy to say I have a quiet strength, not from the outside in, but from the inside out. Now I live with patience and compassion for myself, my family, my friends and others I meet on the way.
