This morning I was scheduled to teach yoga class at 8:15 AM. At 8:13 AM, someone came in and told me something someone had said that was very hurtful to my soul. As I tried to pull myself together to teach, tears streamed down my face. I put everyone in child’s pose, and I tried to wipe my tears, but couldn’t stop them. A fellow teacher saw me, and came up to hug me, and ask what was going on, and immediately the class surrounded me, giving me love.
Without a second thought, she said, “Let me teach, and if you want to jump back in, feel free.” I moved my mat to the student position, and began to practice. I did the hour long practice with tears streaming down my face the entire time. Every time I would think it was stopping, a new stream would begin. At one point, I thought I should probably leave class, but then I realized my mat is where I work these things out as needed.
My mat is my comfort. My mat allows healing. My mat is my challenge. My mat forces me to look at myself. My mat nurtures me. My teacher offers comfort. My teacher provides space for healing. My teacher brings me challenge. My teacher offers a nonjudgmental way of reflecting. My teacher nurtures me. She lays her hands on my head, and gives me a kiss on top of my head. A kiss that says I support you. I am here for you. She reminds me I am strong. I have a heart with pure intentions. I am enough.