A Letter to My Friend Jim: On Coming Home

Hello! and happy Thursday. I swear it’s felt like Friday since Monday. Not a bad feeling, when you think about it…

I loved the article you posted last night on my page. I swear we communicate telepathically—even without many words describing my post and most recent photos, I feel like you know that I experienced some sort of breakthrough and beginnings of transformation yesterday.

I finally. found. a yoga class.

Or so I think. My yoga for the past two weeks has been in my bedroom/office/yoga studio/reading room, and it’s been amazing to return to a daily practice after months off. I’ve committed to my own 40-day challenge. But yesterday, with the playful persuasion of our studio mate Maite, I went to an anusara class.

And I think I found my new yoga home.

Not necessarily the studio, not necessarily the practice or teacher, not even the asanas. It was the meticulous instruction, the detailed cues, the guiding and encouragement to open my body in a very methodical way to experience my BEST, to shine most brightly from my heart and my entire being.

Consequently, my yoga home is me.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was HOME in my own body, despite the weirdness of being in Florida, despite the homesickness for my family and for the South and for seasons that sometimes cuts me in half. I felt effortlessly inspired to dig in to learning and exploring a new dynamic and body wisdom that will help me always show up to be my best and brightest.

I’m still new to the terminology and concepts of anusara yoga, rooted in intrinsic goodness. But I know enough to realize that this heart-guided practice based on energetics, a solid foundation and alignment has been attracting me for months, if not my whole life. I’m so eager to learn, understanding that most of the knowledge is already within as feelings, and just needs to be put to words. A new vernacular or vocabulary.

So it’s back to the books, catching up on some of the basics I hurredly skipped over in my training, while life otherwise stays steady with regular writing and pottery intermixed.
The fall is always an exciting time, I realize, as I reflected on years’ past, whether we’re harvesting the fruits of our garden or the fruits of our labors, preparing for a winter of internal work. It’s like planting hearty greens to last through the cold season, knowing that when they poke their little heads through the soil, I’ll be ever grateful for my foresight, planning and diligence. Am I even allowed to make those analogies, having never planted a single hearty green in my life? I only hope the words are a foreshadowing to what the future holds, a garden and space of my own.

Thank you for your support, and most of all, thank you for listening, even when I haven’t had the words to express what’s in my heart.

Love you. I’ll be back to visit soon.


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