My collection of knee socks serves
as a testament to my Catholic education. From pre-school through high school, we
bowed our heads in memorized prayer each morning and afternoon--I can still
recite most of them by heart. Despite this routine
and obligation, there has never been a point in my life when I felt that I was
closely aligned with religion of any kind. As I have grown older, more
independent, and increasingly aware of my values, I have found that Catholicism, really
is not my thing. I do not even know the last time I attended any type of church
function or gathering.
Something my father always
instilled in me was the importance of "doing one’s church." A man who came from a
family of strong faith and Catholic schooling, my father stated, “There are many who attend church each Sunday and bow their heads in daily prayer, but what it really
comes down to is how you live your life, and how you treat those around you each
day.” I grew up watching my dad work two full-time jobs, and I never really
understood the impact it made upon me until very recently. I saw him leave in
the morning and return in the dark. In summer, it was not unusual for him to
arrive home, covered in sweat and saw dust, at 9:30PM—and he had not even sat down
for dinner yet. Although my father did not have time to
physically kneel before an alter each Sunday, he made his church a reality
through his daily actions. His example instilled in me this philosophy of
doing one’s church—whatever that means to you.
I fell into my yoga practice during
my first year of college. It was more of a fitness-style class, so there were
no “aums” or teachings of yogic philosophy. Shortly after my first exposure, I
discovered that a “real” yoga studio would be moving down the street from
my apartment. Slowly, yoga became integrated into my workout routine. It soon became habitual for me to attend classes two-to-three times a week. I learned
to crave savasana, and that I was much more comfortable in some poses than
others. Upon graduation, I was hesitant to leave my small, hot yoga studio that
I called home. I was sure that I would never find anything else like Soul. And
in a sense, that’s true. There will never be another Soul, or another version
of myself at that time--nothing will replace the point in my life when Soul Yoga Studio served my presence best. Although the studio and its teachers will always hold a
special place in my heart, I (reluctantly) allowed myself to enter into a new home.
I will admit, I was hesitant about
Thrive. It was different, it wasn’t like the small studio I was accustomed to in my
college town, but I decided to give it a chance--I had to give it a chance. After all, I needed a yoga studio,
especially one that offered a hot practice, and times that fit into my schedule.
Originally, I chose Thrive because of its hot yoga classes, however, it became
much more than a hot yoga studio to me. Showing up for
yoga the week of my herpes diagnosis was one of the most difficult classes of
my life. Each forward fold, each hip opener, each downward dog, I fought through
shame. At what point does the pain between your ears outweigh the pain between
your legs?
As I transitioned through this dark
phase of my life, so did my yoga practice. Poses that once were my favorites, became some of the most difficult to work through because of the scars and emotional heaviness that became integrated into my body. I drifted from the idea of forcing myself into a certain practice, or committing to a pose because that was the teacher's suggestion. I stopped limiting myself to a strict, hot vinyasa practice, and began to enjoy the benefit and peace of mind that restorative poses offered me. Through this new definition of open-mindedness and mental clarity, I began a journey of self-healing, one that I am still working towards.
This summer, I finally had the financial ability and intuitive sense to know that this was my time. I submitted my application for the 200-hour teacher training at the studio I was once so hesitant to join. During the week, it is more likely for someone to
find me lounging in the nook at Thrive than in my own apartment. For me, yoga has evolved into more than that physical sense of well-being. For me, yoga is therapy.
Yoga is the one place where I willingly let go of my phone and actually take
offense when phones sound off in class. I have never found such a closely-knit group of positive minds, creative minds, and open souls than I have at Thrive. Many of my teachers have become very close friends. Over the last several weeks, attending classes has been difficult. Going through this heartache has been difficult. The unexpected outpouring of support I have received from Thrive is almost miraculous. People I had practiced next to without spoken word reached out to me and offered an ear to listen, and even friendships to be made.
I now bow my head and bring my
hands into prayer for a different reason, one that fits me and my journey to
inner-peace and self-love, closer than Catholocism ever brought me. Church was an
obligation for me, and I attended because I had to. At first, yoga served that sense of obligation in my life, too, however, I began to grow towards yoga, which meant growing towards myself. My mat has become my sanctuary. My mat has become my church. And now, it is time to take my practice even further off the mat.
