Holy Fuck

I thought I’d start with that. I miss writing and a few students have said they’ve missed my business page where I would talk about the direct application of yoga in my life. So, I’ll play around with this blog-here-thingy and see how it goes.

The last 14 months of my life have been a trip. Four family members have died in this time. I’m kinda getting this whole death thing down now. I was afraid of death my entire life, fearing it immensely as a child. But I was afraid of lots of things as a child.

I now know that death goes a little bit like this: Disbelief, shock, wracking sobs, disbelief again, numbness, sobs, acceptance. Lather, rinse, repeat…on some sort of cycle that isn’t set and cannot be prepared for.

I was numb yesterday before I taught my lively, lovely 10am Saturday class. My partner’s brother died the day before Thanksgiving. Only 2 or 3 weeks earlier it was my mom’s best friend, essentially an Aunt to me and my siblings. All the everything of this last year gurgled up to the surface and I wasn’t sure I could pull off teaching. But I arrived, saw these sweet people ready to play, and I began. And I began in a way that was authentic to who I am: moving through Tai Chi patterns while blasting Nine Inch Nails. Yes, this is how I practice and teach my yoga; bringing all of who I am, from the violent drug and alcohol addicted punk to the compassionate, though hard-assed, loving teacher. And what’s amazing to me is just how…”right there with me” the students often are. Never could I have imagined the perfect hand-in-glove jive that happens inside of me when I teach to students who want to learn. I am in my element, just as I am when I give a Shamanic healing session to a client.

As I wrote about many times last year, the world and business of yoga turns my stomach sometimes. For all the love and fluff there is an underbelly of competition now that there is a glut of teachers and studios. And then there’s social media. Lets not get me started on that today. Save that for later…

The Energy of that 10 am class was amazing, as it often is. We danced and sang and played and moved and released the shit…( swear jar!!!). After class, the owner of the studio gave me a hug and I collapsed into tears. She was the one I called the morning my brother died because I could not call my mom.  Mom had died 6 weeks earlier. She knows what this year has been. And in a sweet turn of events, I am now helping to take care of her mother.

Anyway. I have lived a very colorful life. I have learned how to navigate some pretty heavy shit and I’ll write about how I did that here.

 

Onward ho, my lovelies…

Love,

L.