the strange path to wonderful

If someone had told my 22-year-old self that I was destined to become a professional yoga instructor, I would probably have had a good laugh and another shot of Jager.  But the universe has a way of moving us in the direction of our higher purpose, even when we don’t have reason to believe.

The first yoga class I attended was a disaster.   It was listed on the studio schedule as “Beginner’s Ashtanga”.  The teacher led us through a long, foreign chant that confused me thoroughly.  Then she discussed the grave implications of not following the path with great devotion.  When the asana practice began, it became clear that I was in fact the only actual beginner, as the other students were quickly performing impossible feats of physical strength and grace.  The instructor seemed irritated that she had to deal with my clumsy and inflexible body, and made me spend most of the class practicing tadasana .  I had just paid $15 to stand with my back against a wall for 45 minutes.  Bored and humiliated, I walked out of the studio thinking, “I guess yoga just isn’t my thing”.

Still seeking some form of physical fitness, I joined a local health club.   I frequented a class called “Body Flow”, a choreographed program loosely based on yoga and tai chi, set to a standardized Top 40 soundtrack.  It was the kind of thing that might make a devoted Ashtanga teacher vomit on her black Manduka mat.  But it was here I learned to move with my breath.  It was here I realized I had muscles in my hips.  It was here I actually felt a real connection with my body for the first time, ever.  The instructor was consistently kind and happy to see me.  And I eventually gained enough strength and flexibility to venture tentatively into another “real” yoga class.  And another.  And another. 

Fast forward 8 years, and I had somehow landed myself at Shoshoni ashram west of Boulder.   My time had finally come to master the perfect tadasana, to recite long foreign chants, to perform impossible feats of strength and grace, to follow this path with great devotion.  It turns out yoga is, in fact, my thing.  

This is what I love about yoga.  It always meets me right where I am, planting the right seeds at the right time.  My practice has always been unique and perfect for my current needs.  It helps me move through the present as it sets the stage for my next growth spurt.  Your practice does the same for you, though it probably doesn’t look a thing like mine.   And you never know when something unexpected (like maybe a pop culture infused health club class) might just lead, sooner or later, to something wonderful.