Honor the Light

Back before Covid-19, when I could take large classes in person, I would often find myself at a small yoga studio in my city. At first, yoga was something I did to prove to people that I wasn’t boring; proof that I could fit in to millennial culture (without it being that contrived). People who did yoga were fascinating to me. I watched in the initial classes I took spellbound by others’ flexibility. Could that be me?

As time has worn on, and after a year of taking said classes in that small yoga studio, I learned more about myself. I like moving. I like stretching. I like to feel in control of my body. My anxiety diminishes to the point of being gone.

And as time has worn on, I have done yoga at home. I know that child’s pose calms me, makes me ready for sleep. Ditto half pigeon and lizard pose. I stretch my arms to the sky in mountain pose, reflecting on a godliness in movement, a motion of gratitude, towards a peace that I previously would have yearned for - and, I was starting to fit in with the other yogis. They could do it, I could do it.

I actually had a passion, a joie de vivre. Deep breath in. A mantra I at first struggled with; centering myself in the breath seemed hopeless. The practice of yoga is itself just a a breath, building strength, solidity. I breathed.

As I go through the yoga motions now, at home, during Covid-19, I reflect on how this makes my life worth living. Stretching. Simply - that good feeling of being present in my body, in the present moment.

Perhaps that’s hedonistic. But it’s my solace.

Yoga is my inspiration, my reason to keep moving. Flow it out, as the yoga instructors say. Keep going. Keep feeling.

And maybe - in perhaps my dreams - I can teach this practice. Share some light.

Namaste. The light in me honors the light in you.