Yoga. I’ve waxed poetic about it for a few years now and that’s simply because once upon a time, it saved my life. I was bored, alone in another country, and suffering from intense back pain. In the realm of natural healing, I think yoga is the bee’s knees for aches and pains, muscle tightness and skeletal alignment, plus the added benefit of deep breathing and centering.
I haven’t touched my mat in over a year. It’s a good one, too. No Walmart knockoff for me. There it sat at the top of my closet while I waddled around, body throbbing with pregnancy symptoms and I did not use it. I regret that. I pulled out my sweet purple Manduka last night and put it on my bedroom floor. I just stared at it for about 6 minutes. It looked a bit like my own body: molded into a tight shape with kinks that haven’t been ironed out in months. Then I stepped on. It felt like home, right away. That’s something a hippie yogini would say, right? Don’t judge me. I was worried that when I started to make my way slowly into just a few poses that I’d crumble under the pressure. I actually held my own. I promised myself I would go slow, do only what felt good, and focus on breathing. I have not taken a full, deep breath like that in a year. Ironic, considering all the breathing you do while having a baby, but I came to find there was a lot more shallow breathing instruction rather than really deep, cleansing breaths during child birth. The more you know. Anyways, I was transported into quiet head space and could actually feel oxygen moving into nooks and crannies of my body that haven’t received any in year. It can happen that fast, and now I want more.
It’s refreshing to know how doing just a little bit can inspire you to give it the full go. I remember when I started Moksha (hot) yoga in Halifax, after the first session I knew I wanted to change what I was consuming to make yoga practice easier on my body. The last thing you want to be sweating out during a 90 minute yoga class is the chicken finger sub you had for lunch. You want to jump in with both feet.
So, let the yoga life commence. This time around, I have a very reasonable set of expectations for myself, and hope to have a regular practice going by the time I get to my big goal day… April 14th. That’ll be the day baby girl and I celebrate one entire year of being together. I can’t wait to get her started with toddler-style yoga, and hell-with the downward dog she’s rocking, she could probably teach me a thing or two. Stay tuned for more obnoxious posts about yoga and how I AM IN LOVE WITH IT AND DON’T WANT TO GO TO THE GYM EVER AGAIN. You may also enjoy this flashback from where it all began.