Ten years ago, I lived a very different life. I was at least 40 pounds heavier with cropped bleached hair and I hide behind pounds of makeup. I worked 60 hours a week in finance, and was a mom, wife and what I suspect was a crappy friend. I had been married for a short time by then and was the breadwinner, which dumped some added pressure on me. So when my office told me I'd be picking up two additional roles, I didn't dare say no. After all, I was getting the two jobs of people who had been let go, I didn't want to be next. I lived in fast forward, I drove a fast car, I cooked fast, I worked fast and I never slept. I also lost everything that makes me...me. Which was a lot, considering my thousand and one interests and quirks.
I started to notice I was aging rapidly. I had bags under my eyes, I was fatigued and most alarmingly, my hair was falling out. I have the most obnoxious head of hair, which I've become grateful for over the recent years, and I have lots and lots of it. So for me to have hair loss that was noticeable is alarming, I assure you. I promptly ran to my OB/GYN, because I was certain it was a simple hormone imbalance.
My OB is a jokster...his license plate says "GOLDFNGR". I'm not joking. When I first read it I was certain I was supposed to be appalled by an OB/GYN having a license plate that declared him Goldfinger, but instead it put me at ease that he didn't take himself too seriously. He is one for speaking directly, however, and gave me a severe talking to when I got in his office. After insisting that I can't be super mom, super wife, super executive, super daughter, super sister and super friend without some kind of balance, he told me I needed to quit my job and take up yoga. Okay Doc...dont send me a bill then, because I'll be broke and living in a card board box. No forwarding address for me.
I knew I couldn't quit, but I could do the yoga part, right? Except that I left out one big hurdle: I was extremely critical and a sarcastic person, and totally unwilling to be open to the New Age hocus pocus that yoga represented for me. I looked up a close studio, and went armed to the hilt with eye rolls, snorts and snarky comebacks. I walked into the studio, which was admittedly beautiful and had lovely music playing, and was full of woman on their yoga mats chatting it up. They were a friendly enough group, I thought. I wasn't sold though. I tossed my blanket haphazardly on the floor, eye roll at the ready.
And then the instructor walked in, all wrapped in white and surrounded by a light I had never seen. And she was serene. How many people can you say that about?! None for me up until that point. She was smiling and happy, and looked at peace. And immediately, I slowed down and one thought popped into my head: "I want that peace." That was a moment for me.
So I went through the class, uncomfortable with the chanting and quietness that existed. And though I knew I wanted that peace, I didn't want to think that yoga was the answer or even part of it. I didn't like to be slowed down, because then I would be force to do what I had spent years NOT doing: looking honestly at myself. Seeing starkly what I didn't like about my life, which was a majority of it, other than my daughter. She was seemingly the only thing I was doing right. My career was going well, but it took me working myself to death in order to be successful at it.
But I went back, because I had no other options and no other place that provided me that quiet that I found in that room. And slowly, my cynicism dropped away. My heart opened, I began to want to give back. I was starting to see things clearly, and it wasnt as scary as I thought it was. I realized I had time to get back what I had lost. But I also became painfully aware of how much I HAD lost, which made the road ahead a long one.
Even after I realized how long my road was, I knew that I had found the one important thing I had lost over the years: HOPE. I continued practicing at that same studio for some time afterwards, I committed as much time as I could, which was admittedly not enough. I moved far away, I tried other studios. Not one compared to that original instructor, so I attended drop in classes with her as much as I could, which some years was very little. But I found a few very good practices closer to my homes and attended them somewhat regularly over the years. But they were always more what I call a "gym" practice versus a spiritual practice. However, I was still practicing and I was happy to have that over the years while I made some very drastic life changes. I always came back to it when I needed it.
Recently I had a friend mention she wanted to begin yoga, and I felt that she may be exactly where I was all of those years ago. I took it as a sign to take her to my original teacher, in the meantime I welcomed the chance to return as well. We went last night, and I was happy and content, and exactly where I wanted to be. She decided today to commit to a six-week course, which will be the most time she's spent on herself in years.
I'm blessed that I have found a path that has worked for me, I'm hopeful that she (and you, if you havent yet) will be as lucky. It's varied and bumpy sometimes, and veers off track periodically. But my path surely leads to my True North, of this I'm certain.
Keep your eyes open, the opening to your path could make itself visible to you any day. Just make sure you stop rolling your eyes long enough to see it.
*If you're interested in the Lotus necklace seen above, please follow this link to Payton Woodcraft. It's beautifully inspired. If you would like to attend a yoga class at the best place around, please visit the Khalsa HealingArts Center website for information. Namaste.
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