This morning I was hydrated enough to get my running shoes on and head out with my loyal running partner for a 3 miler. We wove our way through the cows and puddles and dogs and motorcycles until they gave way to our familiar mountain path, the terrain shifting to a tree lined dirt path. Similarly, our the conversation wove its way from saris to boys and finally settled on yoga. But of course, right? After all, yoga is the microcosmic practice of life.
I shared with her my fear and anxiety about the upcoming week, in which I teach my first full two hour yoga class. Just me. And a class of 20 students. That’s my first diversion from the truth. When my teaching slot comes, I will find myself in a room with just me. Teacher/student. No difference. It’s cliché, but it’s true: we are all here to learn. Life. It’s just that we learning through our bodies.
The universe always brings you the guru you need right when you need them. The same applies to when you need honey lemon ginger tea. True story.
A week of straight yoga, philosophy, breathing and awareness culminated yesterday afternoon and I was exhausted. My sensitivity for others energies has been amplified by being around new people all week, always a prevalent if not sometimes debilitating issue for me. With a great sense of relief and joy though, I’m coming to understand that whenever we find ourselves in new environments, it’s not truly new. Rather, old energies take new forms and together we all meet again. So, yesterday I was done and needed a break. I knew where I needed to be and as philosophy class ended and made way for yin yoga, I gathered a bolster, my mat, and two blocks and headed back towards my hotel. The hotel sits at the very edge of town, backing right up to the forest. I climbed up the marble stairs until they gave way to the cracked concrete rooftop, bypassed the rooftop studio and took the iron staircase to the roof of the studio. One more rickety ladder climb led me to the roof of the roof of the roof. I was on top of the city.
Up there and alone with the sun slowly sinking towards the Ganga, I couldn’t have been more grateful. I rolled my mat out and set my camera up to take photos at intervals, a fantastic way to check posture alignment. And wouldn’t you know it, the universe is a silly photographer.
There’s an Irish lass picking on the guitar and singing in the room next to me. The sun is hot with a cool breeze. On our last day of class, when the panic of leaving settles in, I am calm. I am reminded that all we need, we already have. I am reminded that wherever we go, there we are. And I am most acutely aware that everything happens just as it is supposed to. Even as I am typing this, my phone is lighting up with a FaceTime request from a beautiful girl in Denmark, who says “I’m calling just to say hello and that I love you.” Silly universe.
I’m going to round up my books and climb up on the roof. Calm. Grateful. Happy.
you are looking at two goddesses