Yesterday my mother and I went to our first yoga class. The goal is to go every Monday. I am very excited about finally starting classes, and even more excited that my mother has decided to join me on this journey.
My first class was not difficult, thanks to all the time and effort I have been putting into my practice over the past few years. In fact, I deeply enjoyed the simplicity of this class, basics, sun salutations, and familiar poses.
There's something relaxing about being in a class full of people moving in unison. Yoga class is about connections, not competitions. Everybody leaves themselves open and exposed but nobody feels vulnerable. It's truly beautiful.
Leaving class, I had the blissful, tingling, feeling that only a long and focused practice can provide. Its a feeling I can't explain. I get drunk on yoga, high, but clear, calm, and collected.
It wasn't always like that. I can still remember a time when I felt completely overwhelmed, staggering, quivering, and wobbling along with my Shiva Rea Fluid Power DVD. Then practice was all about getting physical and shaping up my buns.
I was in over my head, that DVD was definitely not intended for a beginner, like me. There is a sharp contrast between how I felt after those early workouts and how I currently feel after a deeply focused practice. Relaxed is not a word that I ever would have used to describe my earliest workouts, worn out, maybe.
The beginning was the hardest part, keeping the momentum going, and pushing myself not to give up. I am eternally grateful for the positive yogis in my life, who always provided encouragement and advice, guiding my early journeys.
My mother is now in the exact place where I once was. She has two choices, give up, or dive in and give it all she's got. I wish her only success, and hope to be a positive voice in her ear, just as my friends did for me, now that she is sitting on the edge of her very own yoga journey.
