Inhale 2,3,4, exhale 2,3,4

Yoga saves my life. Extreme statement isn't it?

My sister introduced me to yoga in 1999, ashtanga yoga to be more specific. Yes, our mother had done yoga in the 70s from her little paperback book that mostly everyone used then, but yoga at that time seemed to belong to her and something that only adults did. It wasn't really geared for children like it is now with Yoga Kids and yoga games.

I'll never forget my first class at downward dog. It was a prep class that all beginners need to start in and I unrolled a borrowed mat in the far corner, as far away from the instructor as I could get. In all honesty, I was skeptical and when the chanting started, I became even more skeptical, thinking it was some kind of cult. As the instructor Diane moved us through the breath and postures I connected at some point and something clicked. I still believe that Diane could sense my newness and doubting, but by the end of savasana, the closing relaxation pose, I felt rejuvenated and alive, a part of something greater, and I could see that Diane was a true yogi.

Since that fateful day I have left yoga for months at a time and come back to it. I have practiced solely at home with music, without music. I have taught yoga to children, sometimes unsuccessfully and other times with great joy and connectedness. I have reached deep emotional levels as well as stretched my body to places I never imagined possible. Lately, I have been more faithful to yoga, a more aware student. I have learned to listen to my breath and my body and what it tells me. Sometimes a backbend comes with great ease and other times it seems like it's just the wrong day to do that particular pose. Each day is different.

An important moment was recognizing the healing aspect of yoga. Physically, I noticed an improvement with a minor, but chronic back and neck pain I had been experiencing (probably as a result of lugging many books to and from York). Emotionally, I experienced a release that made me realize that yoga meant more to me than stretching and strengthening. The year my grandmother died had been quite an emotional year since she had been quite ill and then recovered. D. and I spent some quality fun time with her in the summer. That fall she moved to Ottawa to live with her youngest daughter and died in hospital not long after her move. Of course I was quite sad, more so for my mother who suffered a lot, but I hadn't really cried or let go of whatever emotion I had been holding on to. At the end of one yoga class, I was deep in savasana when the emotion overwhelmed me and I started crying and was able to release the sadness I felt having lost someone who had been such an important part of my life as my grandmother had been. Yet, this also gave me some great peace to be able to grieve for her in a way that I hadn't yet.

Yoga has continued to heal me. Whenever my life gets a little hectic (as in catering season) I always try to make at least one yoga class in the week so I can rejuvenate myself. Furthermore, since I started running, I've found yoga to be essential in my recovery from the stress of running any long distances.

Six years later I'm still working at an ashtanga level one and apparently that's not unusual at all. We all work at different paces and levels. We all reach new peaks at different stages. That in itself has been a big lesson for me because the urge is to be competitive with yourself or with others in the classroom and that's not the intention of yoga. I keep going for the above mentioned reasons, but also because I know that in the next class I will learn something new and discover something in myself I hadn't seen before.