I used to practice yoga, but when I started teaching again — I stopped.
I was too busy. I had papers to grade. I had lessons to plan.
Blah blah blah.
Recently, I found my yoga mat and attended an outdoor yoga session.
It felt good for a hundred reasons.
But especially because I did feel a mind-body connection that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’ve been running on auto-pilot for a while now, planning my son’s bar mitzvah, schlepping to and from fencing lessons, to and from religious school, to and from meetings about things that feel important but really aren’t.
Going through the poses made me slow down and focus on my hands, my hips, my breath.
At one point, I started weeping and I curled up in a ball and just let it come out.
I didn’t even know I had all that sadness trapped inside.
The instructor encouraged me to just be with it, so I allowed myself to cry. In public. I wasn’t exactly quiet. But I wasn’t embarrassed either.
Later, I felt lighter. Ad I decided I’m going to try to continue my yoga – even if it means practicing alone at home to a DVD.
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