My Old Friend Yoga

       About 20 years ago when I was first introduced to yoga, I attended classes weekly at the local community

college.  My twenty-something body would arrive knotted up, head pounding with work-related stress. I

surrendered to the knowledgeable yoga instructor for the hour, and at the end of each class felt obliged to thank

her for giving me a new lease on life.

       Then, decades went by and I neglected to incorporate yoga into my life. I would think back warmly to the

moments of well-being I had experienced during and after class all those years ago and kept putting it on my list of

resolutions for the year to “get back to yoga” but actually doing so fell by the wayside.

       I went through a difficult time in my personal life a few years ago and called on yoga like an old friend to help

me through. My forty-something body arrived at the studio wracked with pain and anxiety, my eyes swollen from

too many tears. Once again I surrendered to the wise instructor. She led us through a gentle practice and I learned

how to breath through my physical and emotional pain. As the breath left my body and then returned I came to

trust that I knew how to heal.

     With time I gradually began to remember that my body was not just a vehicle for anguish. The anguish poured

out bit by bit and joy seeped in filling in the space. As I moved through the ancient poses as millions had before

me, I bid silent thank you’s to my kind teachers and their knowing voices as they led me and others on the journey

back to ourselves.

     At some point, I began to practice at home. Several times a week I spread out my yoga mat in the living room in

the promising light of the morning sun. The calm, reassuring voice of the woman on the DVD tells me to reach my

arms up to the sky and I relish each sensation as I sweep them up. I exhale and continue the familiar routine of the

sun salutation greeting the day grateful I have found a way back to myself.