Throughout the month of February, I worked through the family trauma of a major work disappointment for my husband and the excitement/fear of a sudden impending permanent change of station (PCS). I attempted to maintain some sense of normalcy in my life, even though everything felt like a total mess and my routines were thrown completely out of orbit. Despite all of this, I kept getting up at the same time each morning and heading out to teach my yoga classes.
My final Sunday morning class in Pensacola was an emotional one. We weren’t in Florida very long (only five months), but I did so much growing and stretching (both figuratively and literally) in this place. I changed careers and was reunited with my husband after a long time away. I took a giant leap toward becoming who I always wanted to be. I met amazing mentors and friends who will forever have a home in my heart. We will always be excited to PCS to new places — it’s part of the reason my husband and I decided the military was a good choice for us as a family — but truly I was not ready to leave Pensacola.
The studio was packed with more students than usual. I struggled to keep it together while thanking them for coming to my final class and setting our intention to start.
Our word of the day today is “exhale”.
So far in my time on this planet, I’ve learned that when something is weighing heavily on your heart and you feel compelled to share it, always listen to that intuition. We never know who may be able to find some insight in his/her own path because of our words and shared experience. I have felt this myself as a student when my teachers have opened up about what is speaking to them in their lives. Sometimes it feels as if they are speaking directly to me. Right now, this word “exhale” is so important to me. Maybe it is for you, too.
As I continue my study this week of the yamas and the niyamas, I found that the yama Aparigrapha (nonpossessiveness) was something especially relevant at the moment. Not only am I challenged to release my hold on physical possessions, but also to release moments. To let go so the next thing can come. To exhale so that I may continue breathing and thriving. Holding on too long blinds me to the reality that there are new opportunities out there; new experiences and struggles that I should be flowing toward.
Letting go doesn’t mean we cease to care about that thing or person or experience. To exhale isn’t to stop caring; it’s to stop clinging. A bird cannot fly while holding tightly to her perch. We must exhale. We must let go, and trust that the next breath will sustain us as fully as the last one did.
As my students settled into Savasana,
I came around to lay a cool towel on each of their foreheads and pressed my hand gently over their towels, one by one. I paused at each mat to close my eyes and say a prayer of gratitude to the universe for bringing this student into my life. I prayed for their futures and their health and their families. I prayed that they would know how important each of them are.
As a student, I always wondered what instructors did during Savasana while we lay on the floor in silence. I don’t know what other teachers do, but in my classes, I thank the universe for you.
Namaste, homies.