On March 8, 2015, exactly 100 days from today, I will officially be a certified yoga teacher.
I thought about this last week when I was at my mother’s house in New Jersey, as I touched down into how distant and numb I felt from my training and study.
My life in 2014 has been blessed, beautiful, confusing, jagged. For the first time, I’m traveling as a way of life, while simultaneously maintaining my own sanctuary in my chosen city. I’m doing poorly at maintaining a lot of connections that are important to me; I’m doing swimmingly at expanding others.
I frequently fly back and forth between two places: New York City, the most populous and unhappiest city in the country (re: the National Bureau of Economic Research, gleaned from Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data), and Boulder, the healthiest, happiest city in the country, according to 25-year Gallup Well-Being Index surveys. To be fair, my partner lives in Brooklyn, and the Brooklyn-Boulder connection is palpable. But still, I feel such a disconcerting polarity sometimes.
Each time I move, fly, bus, train, drive—I try so hard to hold my center. But it escapes me. I scatter bits of myself, and I’m often unsure where I left them.
I want to honor this final 100 days. It’s not that I want to do asana—physical yoga postures—for 100 days. What I want is to build a more available access road into the place inside me that deeply wants this, that embodies yoga as my meditation and connection to self and Source.
I’ve been coasting along since October, when I started my yoga teacher training. Since it only happens 1-2 weekends per month, it’s easy to immerse and then disconnect, not incorporating what I’m learning into my daily life.
But, I want to make this meaningful. Why else would I do it?
And so I begin on the first of my last 100 days. The first Yoga Sutra is Atha, which means now. Yoga now, yoga always, yoga everywhere you are. My teachers say that we don’t just practice on the mat; we practice always, in all ways.
Today, I practice yoga now.