I went to yoga yesterday for the first time.
It was, more or less, uneventful.
I cried, but crying at yoga isn’t an unusual thing for me. I mostly only go for the meditation and affirmations at the end of class, which always make me cry in the best way. The rest I can do at home; but I can never really reach the level of peace at home that I do when Judson is telling me to imagine the walls around my heart are crumbling. “Your heart begins to glow,” he says. “There’s no one you need to be. Nothing you need to do, but exist right here in this moment. Feel the earth holding you and just let go.”
Then comes the ugly cry and it feels SO GOOD. I’m a quiet (silent, actually. But that’s a post for another day) crier and so with a lavender eye bag protecting me and the lights turned down low this is the safest place I’ve ever found to cry with the comfort of community without any expectations. It is positively spiritual.
So I moved my body and forgave it. I forgave it for being terribly off balance and for my heels being too tight to touch the floor in downward dog. I forgave it for only being able to make a tiniest tree and for needing to sit in child’s pose through two sequences. I also forgave it for not telling me my baby was not progressing normally and for letting me believe I was pregnant longer than I was.
Ok. So maybe it wasn’t completely uneventful.
Sidebar: I have ALMOST typed that phrase 10,000 times throughout this process of healing. Each time it gets caught in my fingertips, completely breaking my heart at the unintended and usually innocuous reference to a baby I will not have. Today, I type it. I embrace the pain because today I choose to be brave and feel everything. What is life, after all, if not a million moments to feel. Today I’m grateful I have these moments and I will fill them up with whatever comes my way.