Ive had a love/hate relationship with yoga for years.
- I did yoga in my 20’s. Sporadically. I loved the ability to SAY I do yoga. I didn’t practice yoga. I hated consistency back then.
- My 30’s brought yoga teacher training. I “taught” ToGa (toddler yoga). I adored how our home-practice soothed my toddler Tornado when it was time for sleep.
- Later we did family yoga. I loved how our daughter could be the expert & “teach” me poses I feared like bridge.
- My 40’s brought back my own practice. I loved classes. I adored the slice of silence in my otherwise noisy life. I hated each session would end with me in tears. I didn’t yet grasp *why*—-but began warning instructors before class.
The other morning, as I did my practice, I realized for me yoga is bravery.
It’s the fact I know my fears await each time I unfurl my mat—yet I keep unfurling.
Because Im a misfit and a story teller I’ve wondered if I’m alone.
- What does the act of yoga mean to other women?
- How do others view yoga as a piece in their personal journey puzzles?
Is yoga an act of bravery? A focus on notion life-transitions are as important as life-poses? An act of rebellion? A movement toward a quieter mind/journey?
I’m off to the Yoga Journal conference this weekend to unfurl my fears and surround myself with others on the same path.
I’m grateful to Athleta brand for sending me—yet more than that I’m grateful they realize yoga goes beyond just an act of fitness.
To learn about myself & from others what it means to be a modern yogi in this plugged-in, Western world.
What does yoga mean to you? Is it an act of unplugging? Bravery? Self-care? Id love to hear your story…
This isnt a sponsored post. Athleta has graciously agreed to send me to the conference/outfit me, but the longing to share *my* yoga story is all my own.