Monday, June 29, 2015

homesick

So I'm in Texas.  I come here every year to visit my family.  I'm not from the Lone Star State myself, but have spent many weeks and months of my life here.

Texas has always been a sanctuary for me.  My respite from jobs, schedules, and difficult relationships.  The place where I felt loved unconditionally, cared for by a family who was uncritical and happy to see me.  I slept blissfully, comforted by the musty scent of my father's house and the rhythmic symphony of crickets and cicadas.  If my life fell apart for some reason, I always knew I could run to Texas.

But for the first time ever, I'm really, truly homesick here.  If I wrote a country song right now, it would be about driving my old pickup truck right back to Colorado.  I'd leave my dusty boots outside the practice room of the yoga studio, along with my big gold belt buckle with the "Om" symbol in the middle.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Texas.  The rich, hot outdoors packed with wildlife, the giant succulents, the beautiful bigness of everything.  The lakes you can lose yourself on in a boat and swim in without freezing to death.  The friendliness of strangers, the Mexican food, the cowboys and the kind Southern ladies with their big hair and Diet Cokes.  It's just different somehow.

As Thomas Wolfe says, you can't go home again.  I miss the Texas I used to love, but it has changed and so have I.   We are like old lovers who have grown apart but still care for one another, our hearts warm with bittersweet nostalgia.   I have come to believe that my only real home is that ever-evolving thing we call yoga practice.  That perhaps all our suffering is simply homesickness for a deeper connection to the Divine.  And when we truly connect, when I am in that place in me and you are in that place in you, well, we are one.  So Namaste for now, y'all.  I'll see you there, whenever we both arrive.



Sunday, May 24, 2015

Colorado Springs, Yoga Sanctuary



 Old hometown acquaintance: "So, where do you live these days?"
Me, smiling: "Colorado Springs."
Acquaintance, visibly confused: "Oh...huh...do you, uh like it there?"

I know what he's thinking.  What kind of kale-eating, composting, bohemian yoga teacher lives in Colorado Springs?  And talks about it without crinkling her nose?
I can't be too offended, though, since I felt the same way before I lived here.  I came here under mild duress (a story for another day), and pretty much figured I had arrived in a camo-colored exile governed by hate-preaching dictators.  In hindsight, I'm not sure why I made this assumption.  I had never actually spent any time here.  
It appeared I would be stuck here awhile, so I sucked it up and decided to meet some people. I took my then-baby to a La Leche League meeting.   This was where my stereotypes began to break.  I was expecting homogeneity and intolerance. And that, as I longed to tell my old acquaintance, is not at all what I got.  There were mamas of wildly varied ages, ethnicities; religious and political perspectives. These categories clearly meant nothing to them. They were feeding babies together.  Without a twinge of judgment.  I began observing this phenomenon - radical tolerance - everywhere I went in the city.  
So the answer is a vehement yes.  Yes I do like it here.  Very much.  Colorado Springs has healed my life and given me more opportunities than I thought possible.  Living here has taught me to set aside my opinions and look into the hearts of those in my midst.  We have all kinds of people here, and we get along just fine.  We help each other in times of crisis and work together to fix trails and help homeless citizens.
We are also doing yoga - lots of it.  There are dozens of active studios, and every gym offers a full menu of yoga classes. You can go to a kirtan just as easily as you can take a fitness yoga class.  We bring yoga into our schools from elementary to university, to libraries, parks, corporate offices, hospitals, assisted living facilities, military bases, treatment centers, and so much more.  Local yoga teachers are training to serve wounded veterans and to support PTSD recovery through mindfulness practices.  Our yoga community facilitates healing for those affected by abuse, trauma, addiction and eating disorders.
Yoga teaches us, repeatedly, that we are not our bodies, not our experiences, not our identities.  That our true Selves are something much greater and much more unified.  In this space we embody the literal meaning of "yoga" - "to yoke" or "to join together".  If we fail to welcome those who vote or pray differently, we miss the whole point.
The typical stereotype of Colorado Springs is misguided, based on a few national news items and some now-defunct religious leadership.  This is where walls are torn down, not built.  It's where hippies and soldiers put their mats side by side, and bow to one another with a Namaste after class. No kidding.  And if that isn't creating change in the world, I don't know what is.