I love yoga.

I’ve been doing it since I was a little kid with my wonderfully rebellious aunt who brought yoga to my life via TV. I’ve found solace on the mat, wisdom in the stillness, and peace in chanting. I enjoyed my body miraculously “getting” a pose after “practicing it”. Yoga got me through my divorce and strengthened my body before and after childbirth.

When I was a single mom, and got a little cranky, my kids would say, “Mom, why don’t you go take a yoga class.” Every time, I came back blissed out and smiling. (Kids are so smart!)

All of that pretty much ended for me about 5 years ago when I was diagnosed with Lyme for a second time. One day in class, one hip screamed in rebellion, and then a few weeks later, the other. Then, my shoulders and all other joints chimed in to say, “uncle.” I gave up my practice because it was simply too painful.

I would make small attempts at returning to yoga, only to say, “Well, I guess that’s just the way it is.” But, being stubborn (and resilient!), eventually I tried again. I started to inch my way back into practicing at home, only to get hit again with Lyme and this time, anaplasmosis– again. It knocked me on my back and my body rebelled. “Okay, this is it. No more yoga,” I thought. Sigh.

For 6 months, I found myself telling the “story” of how I missed yoga, but couldn’t do it anymore because of Lyme etc. Then one day I heard myself, and I saw myself in the same moment of epiphany I had during my divorce — as a victim. WHAT? I thought I’d moved way past that. And I have, but the truth is, I was revisiting an old pattern that had been comfortable for me to surreptitiously step into — because I was so unhappy with the situation. But here’s the truth: you either decide to change something, or accept it and move on. I wasn’t moving on. I wasn’t accepting it because “it’s just the way it is” doesn’t sit well with me. So the only other choice was to change it.

I decided that I would keep seeking a different way of incorporating yoga into my life. I recently returned to one of the studios I used to practice in. Honestly, I was nervous. This felt like “it” — my last chance. I found myself so distracted that I literally drove right past the studio, had to double back, only to be late for the very restorative, beginner’s class.  When I saw the much older women lying on their backs in poses that would have driven me insane in my yoga classes only a few years earlier (because I like to move)  — I actually got tears in my eyes. Am I an old woman suddenly? What does this mean for me? I chose not to enter the class as it had already started — as even the pose they were doing looked like it might be painful for me.

However, the teacher reached out to me after I left, asking what was going on, what she could do. We decided I’d return the next morning to an all levels class. Sarah had a chat with me about her new approach to yoga for women and it had to do with not “muscling” your way into a pose, but “containing” yourself. Brilliant approach.

I not only made it through the class, but felt infinitely much better afterward. I modified accordingly, used props. I had to check my ego at the door. So what if I once was able to turn myself into a pretzel? That is probably what contributed to my joints rebelling in the first place! I was so overstretched, pushing myself too hard in the classes, that I had no “container” to hold my joints.

Before I get a lot of emails telling me to respect my limitations, and that it’s okay and good to do only what I can—let me reassure you:  I get that. And I agree. For me, yoga is a way of life that I was missing. It was an approach I wanted to pull back into my life, to find peace and solace, as well as exercise. I’m not trying to prove anything to the world – only to myself. Prove what, you might ask? Read on.

What are the lessons?

• There’s always a way—a path– even if it’s different than the way you envisioned it.
• Respect who you are and where you are and work with that to fully express yourself in your life.
• Sometimes we put so much out in the world that a little pulling in, or “containing”, is crucial to self-preservation.
• “Muscling through” life “over-stretches” us in many ways.
• “It’s just the way it is” is unacceptable. We can always make some kind of micro-movement toward improving the situation.
• Maturing is a dance of acceptance and getting creative. (You will age. It’s all about how.)
• If you have the desire, you have the ability.

And really, how you do anything is how you do everything – which is why, for me, yoga represented something I needed back in my life. How has your version of “It’s just the way it is” stopped you from growing?

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