I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions. Never have been. I’ve tried making them before, but I’ve never stuck with them. So during the first week of this year, I found myself frustrated, hanging out at the gym, waiting for those who do believe in resolutions to get off the elliptical and get the heck outta the way of us gym rats who actually believe that exercise is something you do all the time, not just in January.
Anyhoo, while waiting to claim my rightful place amongst the cardio equipment, I was watching a TV that scrolls information about gym events. I noticed an ad for a Beginner’s Yoga workshop starting the next week. It was a series of eight classes that would teach about the basics of yoga and prepare students to take a proper yoga class. Before I had time to think, I was signing up for the series. “You will resolve to be a beginner yoga student,” my brain said.
But my brain was lying a bit. You see, two years ago at this time, I was a die-hard yoga student. I was teaching kid’s yoga classes regularly, and substitute teaching for adult classes. I was at the studio almost every day. And I loved it. I was in a great place, both mentally and physically.
But then we moved. And my yoga somehow didn’t make the move with me. I tried, I really did. But I let a bunch of circumstances get the best of me. Financial circumstances meant I had to get a “real” job, one that paid more than teaching yoga. And I had trouble finding classes at convenient times and convenient locations — there’s not much to choose from here in Little Rock. But I think the main thing that pulled me away from yoga when I moved here was my sorrow. Whenever I went to a new class, I was sad. Sad about the studio I left behind. Sad that I wasn’t practicing next to my dear friends and fellow yogis who I’d grown so close to that I knew exactly how they moved and how their breath flowed. Sad that I didn’t fit in.
So what was once my life became an at-home practice, which became an every-once-in-a-while-when-I-had-time thing, which became nonexistent. I mourned my loss, I grieved, and then I tried to get on with my life.
But life hasn’t been all that great. I’ve not been grounded. I’ve not been balanced. I’ve been distracted and depressed. I’ve not been eating well, and I’ve gained weight. I’ve lost sight of the physical path that often intersects my spiritual path. I was bottoming out, but I threw up my hands and said “Nope, I won’t do this. I know how to fix this. I know what works for me. Yoga does. I will begin, again.”
So I took that beginner’s series. Everything was new. I had a new teacher, Susan, who’s a beautiful person and a great guide. I had new classmates, who were funny and patient and who blew me away with their desire to try something scary and to learn and grow from the experience. I was in a new space, but it felt good to me. I treated myself to a couple of new tops to wear. I even renewed my subscriptions to Yoga Journal and a couple of other magazines.
(The only thing I haven’t done new is get a new mat. I need one. My mat is old and a bit funky. It’s beat up and worn in places, in the spots where I’ve done numerous face plants while trying to master crane pose and other arm balances. What can I say — I tend to fall head first into my challenges. But I can’t bring myself to get a new one, because Jesus is in my mat, I’m sure of it. Whenever I’m on my mat, I hear him talking to me. That’s where he talks the loudest and the most. Or perhaps that’s just where I’m the quietest, where I can best hear his voice. Either way, it would be really cool if he’d also make his face appear in the pattern on my mat. That way I could sell it on eBay for lots of money.)
So there I was, a brand new, shiny, happy, centered, balanced, yogafied Amy. But I’m still not doing yoga regularly. There still aren’t any classes at a convenient time. I still let work and personal commitments get in the way. And I’ve realized that a home practice just doesn’t cut it for me. I need companionship and a good instructor and people who will support and challenge me.
But I will not move away from yoga so easily this time. I crave it. I need it. Yoga is my refuge. It is my church, my education, my friends and family and my lover. It cannot replace those things, but rather, those things cannot be well without it. Most importantly, I want to teach again, to share yoga with others.
So I’ll probably be talking a lot about yoga in this space. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that I have big plans for yoga. Fingers crossed it has big plans for me.
Get back to your practice and get a new mat. You'll find Jesus in another mat too.