10 August, 2011


today, i took my first yoga class alone since before you were conceived. it's been over three years.

you and i took yoga classes together when you were a little baby. you were starting to walk and i couldn't do much yoga. i had to follow you around bending over holding your fingers and walk around the studio while everyone else practiced yoga. you never were one for sitting still. and when i was pregnant with you, i took classes. i loved it. especially with flossie. she made it so primal. so beautiful. but it was more about connecting with you than it was about me. i also have done a bit over teaching over these past three years. but that's just not the same. teaching yoga and practicing yoga are two very different things.

i haven't done much for just me over the past three years. that's not a complaint. just an observation. so it was nice to do this today.

but today's class was the first one in which i actually did some yoga that pushed me, that made me sweat, that stretched my body and my mind. it was fantabulously awesome. your dad took you to the park with your cousins while i practiced. i didn't worry about you at all. i knew that what i was doing for me was good for you. and i can't wait to go back.

however, i was ridiculed by my ego the entire time. of course, right across from me sat a super cool chick with facial piercings and rad tattoos and funky blonde hair. she had a beautiful practice. i couldn't stop thinking about how cool she was and how much i wanted to be more like her. and of course, the instructor jumped right in after only two sun salutes with one of my most challenging postures...PIGEON. i hate pigeon pose. i know, i am not supposed to hate yoga poses. but i hate this one. i hate it because it brings things up. it's hard. and i want so badly to do it.

so about halfway through the class i got a grip on my ego. i thought about the blonde chick (and remembered pocahontas from years back. remember her, nz?) and i thought that maybe she has had an easy life and nothing has gotten in the way of her practice. and then i thought maybe she had a lot of shit thrown her way and this was what saved her. and then i thought, does it matter? she has her practice. and she loves it. and i have mine. though it's not what it used to be and i have no idea what it will ever be again, it's my practice.

the funny thing is that afterwards, we went to school to clean out my old classroom. it has someone else's name above the door now. that made me feel kind of weird and sad. and then i cleaned out my stuff. i gave most of it to your dad for his classroom. and lots went into the trash or recycling bin. i walked out with a bag of yoga mats from when i used to own the studio and a box full of random buddha statues and the like that kids had given me over the years. i thought that was very appropriate.

and then i remembered that the first time i resigned from a teaching job, i was on my way to my first kids' yoga teacher training in nyc with jodi komitor. i was starting a new life. this time, i've already started my new life. but today, as i closed the door on one chapter, i re-opened a door to another. my yoga is still there. and so is the buddha.

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