Wednesday, March 7, 2012

five days

I graduate from my yoga teacher training program in five days.

In five days, I will have a diploma that states that I have completed over 320 hours in courses, workshops, technical sessions, teaching and other trainings.

For some reason, this is a bit depressing.

This feel s like my therapist is saying, “Goodonya, Toots. I think we’re done here. No need to visit anymore. You can take it from here.”


There’s no doubt that I’ve come a long way since I started this program. But, for me, this program is one of the main drivers in this race to creating a better me. While all of the goodness and love and peace I’ve unveiled in recent months were all within all along, it’s been the training program that’s taught me how to tap into it.

I’m scared. There’s a little voice that says, “What if, when I got back to just taking yoga classes like a regular Joe and occasionally teaching, I forget all this?”

This all sounds very silly. I’ve done a big portion of the work. This happier, more aware, brighter version of me has been like soft, warm soil under a sheet of slick, rock-hard ice. Using heat, an ice pick and a whole lot of muscle, I’ve managed to uncover it. I can touch the warm soil now. It smells like spring. You know, after all the slushy-poo smell has faded and things start to smell like germination. I just have to keep this soft, lovely ground unearthed and water it. Soon, new green shoots of life will grow from this little plot of land. And then, by the time I’m old and gray (assuming I live that long), there will be a big, healthy oak tree there. Right where the ice used to be.  

The worry comes from a place of dependence. When life, as I knew it, came crashing down around my ankles eight months ago, I froze in my tracks and looked around. The things I had counted on, depended on, were all running away from me. The closest, healthiest thing I could find to hold on to was yoga (thank gawd). I have a level of dependence associated to yoga, now, as well. While some would argue that all dependence is bad dependence, I find solace because this particular thing encourages me to be independent. To look within. To just be. Dependence on independence? Huzzah! (I realize this may mean I will become an old maid.)

Now, the schedule of yoga that I’m used to is changing. It’s shifting. My training wheels are being removed. My pa isn’t going to hold onto the seat anymore.

How exciting, though.

The timing seems perfect.

I’m eager for the next chapter.

Join me?

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