How Yoga Saved My Life ~ Part 2

(***This post got long so I broke it down into two parts. You can read Part 1 here.)

Teacher training was like rehab. It was the only period of my adult life that I was not only sober but abstinent. I felt like I had grown wings.

But, as folks like me are wont to do, I went to another extreme. Yoga became the end all be all of my existence; all my time, money, thoughts, everything was spent on furthering my practice. I put famous yoga teachers up on pedestals. I couldn't imagine dating someone who wasn't a "yogi" (that's a killer story for another time, maybe). I never threw down for the $98 yoga pants, but I came damn close.

Luckily (I can say that now in retrospect), my yoga bubble got popped in a spectacular fashion. You can read about it here, also here. Then, my favorite teacher moved away and I felt un-tethered from everything that had been keeping me sane. The months after that were spent in deep reflection: once again, I was searching outside of myself for the answers that nobody but me could discover.

Gingerly, and after great contemplation, I got down from my high horse. I took a step back from teaching. I went back to basics, creating my practice anew, asking my inner teacher the next step to take, rather than mimicking what I *thought* a "real" yogi would do.

I'm sharing all these things (even though it's super scary to be this honest) because as I go deeper and deeper with my business, and deeper and deeper into life, I have to be as authentic as possible: not only because I am in the business of serving others, but because I need a way to hold myself accountable to the commitments I've made to myself--and to my soul; to the world I want to create and in which I want to participate. I share these things because I want you all to know that when I talk about health and wellness and living a full, inspired, healthy, creative life, I am not pulling something out of my ass or from some book I read; I have struggled hugely with simply being who I am, in all my flawed glory.

The biggest thing I'm getting is that I have a choice in all this. I can choose to make the process the goal, instead of waiting for some mythical future to arrive where I have the perfect body, all the money, a nice apartment, work that fulfills me, and the freedom to play and travel as much as I want. I can choose happiness, health, wealth, love, creativity, and joy in the nitty gritty of every day life--instead of fleeing reality. I can wake up every day and commit again and again to discovering the extraordinary in the ordinariness of daily life. When I can focus on the process and remove the pressure of the fabled end result, a freedom and clarity arises that I never thought possible; what's more, when I choose the things I'm committed to, instead of worrying over what I want to avoid, my life rises up in support of those choices. I am no longer at the mercy of past patterns; now, I have a say in the matter.

I am grateful for a life of moderation. Now, my antennae perk up anytime I start to tilt too far into extreme territory--it's only challenging when it's something perceived as "healthy" (Paleo, anyone!?). These days, I find infinite solace in early bedtimes, home-cooked meals, a daily writing practice and a return to my first love, dance. I still practice yoga, the difference is that now it's one of many tools in my toolbox, rather than the ONLY ONE.

If I were to consolidate all of this into some type of advice it would be thus: Find a daily practice. Doesn't matter what it is--but make sure to do it every day. Eat good food, and plenty of it. Get to bed early and take lots of naps. Move your body in a way that makes you feel strong and vital. Ask for help when you feel stuck. Go on vacation as much as possible, even if all you can swing are weekend trips here and there. Celebrate your accomplishments, especially the seemingly "little"ones. And most of all, TRUST THE PROCESS. Otherwise, you'll miss out on life, and, as we all know, this is the only one we get.

I usually don't share Hafiz or Rumi poems (years of hearing them in nearly every yoga class kinda killed the magic for me); this is too appropriate not to share (and maybe it's time for me to give up that story, too):

Cast Your Votes for Dancing

Hafiz

I know the voice of depression

still calls to you.

I know those habits that can ruin your life

Still send their invitations.

But you are with the friend now

And look so much stronger.

You can stay that way

And even bloom!..

Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins

That may buy you just a moment of pleasure, 

But then drag you for days,

Like a broken man

Behind a farting camel.

O keep squeezing drops of the Sun

From your prayers and work and music

And from your companions' beautiful laughter

And from the most insignificant movements

Of your own holy body.

Now, sweet one,

Be wise.

Cast all your votes

for dancing!

How Yoga Saved My Life ~ Part 1

(***This post ended up being longer than I anticipated, so I broke it up into two parts~Dani)

I spent most of my life fleeing myself. In junior high, I went invisible, and by high school my disappearance was complete; I navigated the turbulent waters unseen except for the close knit group of friends with whom I surrounded myself. I began to numb out. In high school it was pot, and then in college, booze (whoever says marijuana is the gateway drug is an idiot; alcohol is FAR more dangerous, especially if being a drunk is something you carry in your genes). I took my first yoga class in 2002, as a freshman in college, to fulfill a one unit requirement. We practiced entirely in the dark, on a padded floor in a room in the basement of an old building at SF State. I'm pretty sure the majority of the classes were spent in savasana. I couldn't really say what it was but there was something I liked about the classes, and sophomore year when I moved to the Haight I started practicing weekly at Yoga Tree before it started to pimp itself out, back in the day when drop in classes were still $10 and you could buy yoga clothes for less then a flight to Orange County.

I didn't become a yoga die-hard until 2007--up to then I still spent most of my time throwing myself into the void, with little glimmers of re-connection here and there as I sweat my life out onto the mat. I knew that I liked how I felt after yoga class. I knew that I loved feeling strong in my body, especially after years of cutting myself off from it's messages. I knew that it was the only place I felt completely free and safe to fully express myself. Again, the shift didn't happen over night; I can't tell you how many Sunday morning classes I went to class hungover and disgusted with myself. I didn't realize until much later, but through all the ups and downs and learning experiences of my early 20's, yoga was the one thread that connected everything.

Over time (6 years to be exact), yoga began to permeate more and more of my life. It stopped being this thing I did to get exercise or detox and became the cornerstone around which I lived my life. I often ask myself how this happened. The spiritual teachings were part of it, but truly, I think the transformation occurred when I began to re-inhabit my body; when I started connecting the dots between the way I responded to challenges on the mat as a mirror for how I responded to challenges in my daily life. Instead of running away from myself, for the first time I came home: to my body, and it's wisdom, infinitely wiser than the evil critic in my head.

Ever since I was a kid I experienced anxiety; at age 10 I was an insomniac who would wake my mother up nearly every night, complaining of "the funny feeling;" an uncomfortable angst in the pit of my stomach that I could barely describe let alone for which I could pin down a cause. Constantly vigilant of others' perceived opinions of me, I never pursued anything that would put me in the spotlight or require me to be seen. As I grew up, I began using substances to mellow down the constant internal chatter. It was the only way I had figured out how to ease my troubled brain.

Practicing yoga was the first time I could let all these things simply...be. The first time I felt a buzz without the help of anything outside myself. The first time I could sit with my reality without retreating in a panic or leaving my body completely. I'm telling you, this was magic for me: the realization that I could actually LIKE myself. And then, more magic: that "like" turned to "love."

I was still flirting with extremes at this point; I would often go from late night drunken party on Friday to all day yoga workshop on Saturday, no biggie. I saw more and more clearly the duality of life: as the light began to shine more brightly, the shadow became more pronounced. I started to see my practice as the ultimate act of self love, and with this realization came the clarity that in this case it couldn't be both/and; I had to commit completely and let the old ways die. I moved to Thailand for eight months and in this new environment, away from all the STUFF, I felt something inside me start to blossom. I came home and studied with Katchie and Sianna, and doors continued to open.