And You: a love letter to yoga
You walked in the door.
You were not sure where to leave your shoes.
You were not sure if you were wearing the right clothes
You felt like everyone else knew something you didn't
You saw strangers in the mirror; including one right in front of you
You were pretty sure you couldn't do this.
You did this.
And then you did it again.
You came back
You knew where to leave your shoes
You started putting your mat down in the same place
You felt your breath for the first time
You felt your body for the first time
You started meeting your own gaze in the mirror, even when you fell down
You helped someone else figure out where to leave their shoes
And then you found that piece of yourself that had been lost
You came to class when your heart was broken
You came to class when your soul was broken
You came to class to celebrate
You came to class to mourn
You came to class to be held
You came to class to hold another
You came to class when you felt like a tender moth drawn to that searing flame of the old life that was no longer serving you
And from that fire you created your new life
You felt a space crack open
You felt the breath move and the heart settle
You wanted to share the gifts that saved you
You wanted to be a light for someone who was in the place where you once were
You practiced and you studied and tried to understand the mystery that will never be fully grasped
You stood up and spoke even though your voice shook, your hands shook, your heart shook
Your words came in the wrong order, the wrong speed, the wrong pitch
And then you stood up again
You slowly understood that it is the flaws, the insecurities, the insufficiencies, that make you whole and human
You understood that your journey, the whole glorious vulnerable mess of it, is pure inspiration
You understood that no one benefits from your perfection, but they are starving for your authenticity
You understood that the things that seem to set us apart, are actually the things that bind us together
You understood that we all need assistance along the path, not so much a teacher, but a guide, a vessel, a candle, an anchor, a home
And you made it so.
For you.
For them.
For us.
- By Lisa Jakub