I fell in love with yoga during my first pregnancy. Once a week I practiced on my now extinct Lincoln Park health club’s carpet and connected with my baby, my breath and noticed confidence in my body and decisions.
After my son was born and the advertising agency hours didn’t work with my parenting schedule, I signed up for a yoga teacher training.
From that moment on, my practice although rich, growing and intense, always felt competitive. I felt shameful when I couldn’t get up in flying pigeon alongside my peers. Even when my side angle is flawless, I wanted to go deeper, farther and be better.
Then multiple sclerosis appeared and for the first time ever I was sedentary for 2 weeks. My body was craving movement and my heart was exploding with the need for meditation and to reconnect.
My initial modified practice I sat in child’s pose for 10 minutes appreciating each sensation as my feet and legs slowly turned on for the first time since I was admitted to the hospital. I sucked in each breath thankful to be back to my practice.
Now I’m back to my regular classes, but have no shame to come out of a pose early or skip right to down dog instead of flowing through every vinyasa. I’m content with the fact I will never be a model yogi, yet grateful for the joy, strength and comfort my yoga practice brings to me.