I haven’t been posting here lately, but the yoga has not stopped.
My class is coming to a close. At the end of June I will officially be a Yoga Teacher. Which is strange, because that wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing. Yoga has always been a home practice for me, just a safe space to try to piece myself together.
Now, I’m almost half way through my practicum, teaching ten hours of yoga to teenage girls in a residential home. My personal practice has altered greatly. Not in the sense of poses, but different aspects. I’m becoming more intimate with myself – my thoughts, emotions, instincts, beliefs, fears. The moments of my morning routine are becoming sacred, a time I dedicate to my quest for freedom. I walk away from the classes I take and the classes I lead with new information each time.
Yoga has altered for me, from a tool to an experience. More than anything I am reminded repeatedly of the need for truth, for genuine action. I spent years allowing other ideas to wash me over and influence me in ways that weren’t true. I’m still unsure of what is real and what isn’t, but I’m figuring it out. I’m figuring me out.
All of this work is leaving me feeling drained. I can’t help but to try to reach out to others and give, give, give. I’m reminded of the idea that giving should provide you with the energy, not drain you. Maybe I’m doing something wrong. But I am tired. Tired of working on the deep layers of myself, especially in context to others. I’m thinking after I graduate I might leave for a weekend to explore the world completely alone. I might even be utterly selfish and leave my dog home, so that I can remember what it’s like to really only care for me.
For now, I’m here, coming back to something that is deeply important to me – my writing. Hopefully I can remember to balance this jubilant energy with self care and not take a hiatus for months again.