Yoga saved me!
This last Halloween marks 30 years since Yoga entered my life. It entered without any label, without fancy pants, or a special name. Specialty labels for Yoga were basically non-existent at the time. I did these practices by myself, because I knew of nowhere to go to join others. Mainly though, it was (and still is) a very personal practice for me. I didn’t enter an actual studio till almost a decade later. Stretching in postures and meditation began as strictly a coping mechanism. These practices assisted me in alleviating anxieties provoked by endless pokes of chemotherapy needles. It gave me a window of comfort in the middle of the night as I lay considering the tumor lying between my heart and lungs, and its’ power to bring me down. It took my mind somewhere, away from the physical pain of the burning chemicals in my veins; and to a peaceful place as I lay beneath the massively intimidating radiation machines. Amongst the noise of hospital rooms, where I went often, I could lean into the silent spaces of my mind for comfort. These Yogic practices offered me insights to see beyond my fears as doctors twisted their faces attempting to relate to the 20 year old in front of them. What I now call Yoga allowed me to see beyond the 50% chance of surviving a year. It brought me to a place of calm in the cancer storm rolling through my life.
Honestly, I can’t even recall what exactly introduced me to this tradition. I do recall a thin purple book with a person skipping across the beach on the cover. This book outlined the basics of breathing, stretching (done without any special mat), and a beginning to understanding how the mind works. I could have never predicted it would lead to a life long journey, a journey that grows me inside, outside, and beyond each and every day. The gratitude I have for this life practice named Yoga is indescribable. I want to clarify what I mean by Yoga. When I use this word I do not mean the common modern image of a body in tight pants moving from one fascinating position to another. Yes, I do own yoga pants and do do asana… though it is only a very small portion of what I consider to be Yoga. I use asana to prep for sitting in meditation, a bigger part of what I consider as Yoga. The choices of words, actions, and daily deeds are the largest segment of how I practice Yoga.
Recently, I discovered a wonderful magazine out of the Netherlands, Happinez. An article on love resonated very deeply with me, especially the portion regarding the love of the Divine/God/Great Spirit/whatever you name this greater force, branded agape by ancient Greeks. It mentions how deep challenges create awareness beyond the day-to-day. How turbulent times in life can expand our capacity to love. Both the infamous Eckhart Tolle and Byron Katie began their journey to love in this way.
My own awareness of unity with this greater force/God, anchors my life. Yoga is what brought me back to God all those years ago while consciously facing death. Yoga connected me back to a source I had grown dismayed and disillusioned by in my younger years growing up Catholic. The rediscovery of this entity of pure love lead me to promise embodying agape to the best of my ability for the rest of my life. Yoga is this true practice of love, I aspire to transcend ego one moment after another. Sometimes I am successful and sometimes I am certain Yogini status will never be mine. It asks us to surrender completely to moments of opening ourselves, so we may glimpse a deep sense of unity (Yoga). A feeling, felt once, is filled with the power to change us forever. This I know to be true. My opening experience took me from a place of total disdain and complete lack of knowing about Self. This state, previously set into motion in pursuit of a modeling career, now is a replaced by attempting to cultivate of an attitude of gratitude.
Since the 30 year anniversary of my diagnosis this last October six people I consider friends, individuals who I have fond memories with, have shared with me they have cancer. This “bad” news came one after another, after another on the heels of saying a way too quick good-bye to one of my girls (pooches), Ms. Mona. On top of it all, the insane energy of the US election.
“Love is what makes the pain bearable,” the article assures me. And I know the only way to maintain that channel of love is through continual recognition and connection to this source of utmost Love. It is through yogic practices, every day and in every way, do I know and feel assured this two-way stream remains flowing. And still 30 years later I am so grateful to Yoga for coming into my life.