This morning I practiced yoga with a group of friends, family and yoga teachers. It was morning satsang and kirtan in celebration of my dear friend Lauren’s birthday. It was the first practice I have done in months. That seems shocking to say out loud.
When I got the invitation in the mail a few weeks ago, my stomach dropped. I spent weeks trying to figure out how to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to make it. I am so detached from my practice. My body isn’t what it was when I was teaching. My boobs no longer fit into my yoga clothes. I was horrified of what my yogi friends would think and afraid of my own judgement. I knew in my heart I wanted to go. That I needed to go. I just didn’t know if I could actually follow through.
Of course the morning was judgment free and wonderful. Our practice was outside in the backyard. It was hazy and cool. I connected to my voice and my body. I took the flow slow and at my own pace. My calves and hamstrings were angry but slowly began to loosen and by my last down dog my heels came to touch the earth. During savasana a light rain began to fall as connected to my breath and listened to Lisa sing. I felt a peace with my body and my yoga for the first time in over a year.
As we gathered inside for Kirtan, my friend Ming gave me a big hug. “It’s wonderful to see you practice again, Terra.” It brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them away and settled down into a cushion for kirtan.
Oddly enough, Ming is the only person I have actually talked to about my disconnect with yoga and my practice. A month or so ago, he held space for me over a beer without judgement. I was grateful in the moment and I am grateful for his words today.
Sometimes we just need an open mind, an ear and a hug to remind us where home is.