Palm to palm

If you've read my bio, you know that consistent yoga practice played a massive part in my overall well being  and brought me back from an edge I almost threw myself over back in 2007-2008.

Where did I go?

This past year, some major drams in my yoga world went down, my favorite teacher moved out of state, and, for a short time, I took on managing a yoga studio. It was the perfect storm for some serious yoga burnout. I started to forget why I ever bothered to roll my mat out in the first place. I considered cross-fit. I let go of my public class. I walked away.

...and through the doors of another studio, one that's been around for a while but I'd never attended (there was never a need). Where I was anonymous, and completely oblivious to the "cool" teachers or established cliques among the student base. Where the practice was strong, and consistent and dependable and varied. No complicated demos. No clapping. My focus started to come back.

There is this moment at the beginning of class where people are kind of awkwardly waiting for the teacher to go ahead and start, still with a foot outside the studio, brain engaged still in to-do lists and post yoga class meals and errands and conversations and all the STUFF of being human and living in a city and trying TO GET SHIT DONE, you know? I know. That's me much of the time. Shallow breathing and disconnect. Searching for something deeper than the superficial grittiness of it all. Unable to sit still even for those first three minutes tops before the teacher sits down and says hello and then:

"Close your eyes and put your palms together."

And that's all it takes sometimes, for the breath to deepen, the skin to relax, the tension in the jaw/forehead/scapulae/heart to quiet; to return to that space of remembering. There I sat last week, palm to palm, tears brimming at the corners of my eyes, as I sat and sang and sweated for an hour and fifteen minutes, fully present with my sweet self.

So often this practice that is intended to bring us deeper inside instead becomes one more thing that pulls us off our center. Celebrity teachers with cult followings, $98 yoga pants, lack of diversity (cultural, body type, socioeconomic background just to name a few)--these do not in any way reflect the aforementioned sweetness, and I'll be the first to admit I got caught up in the hype. I forgot what it felt like to be perfectly content with me as me, and started looking outside of myself for answers. That's where the breakdown happened.

What practices in your life bring you closer to you? Performing? Working your garden? Being with your dog or cat? Writing? Being in nature? Meditation? Travel? Art? Little by little, these practices help us carve new paths down old roads until the edges start to smooth. Guard these moments vigilantly. Create space and put it in your calendar. Be unwavering in this commitment to yourself because really, what else is there? If we can bolster and strengthen those moments where we connect to source, when shit hits the fan we know what to do. It's not like it doesn't suck, or terrible things don't happen; no amount of wishful thinking will keep the bad at bay. But what a gift to experience the lows while staying connected to the truth: that we are already whole and complete. For me it's palm to palm; what are your practices?