yesterday, i completed my second 200-hour yoga teacher training.
as the 18 of us sat encircled, with candles blazing before each body, i began my talk with tears, saying, “well, if you didn’t expect me to cry, you should know by now that i am my mom. i cry at anything remotely sentimental.”
and it’s true. it hadn’t been the first or the second time i’d cried during this training. i cried during each check in we shared, circling up with one another in an open, honest space. i cried on backbends day when my frustrations with being so un-backbendy got ahold of me. i cried when we twisted deeply and wrung out the old. you could say i’m an emotional person. certainly.
yesterday though was all happy tears, shed for how far we’ve come, for the beauty that is transformation. as i sat there, red eyed and blubbery, it came to me just how lovely the whole experience had been.
all the holes i’d had since my first training were filled in. all the questions, answered. this amazing group of individuals reflected back to me my own strength as a yogi but also as a person. as a teacher, as a guide, as a light, and as a shining spirit.
our teacher asked us to speak to what the program brought us. i managed to stammer, “this program has made me own it. and by ‘it’, i mean all of me.” the joy, the mystery, the silliness, the seriousness, the deep sorrow — all of it. because all of it is goodness in the end. all of it has a place, a purpose. all of it illuminates some of the most tender parts of being a fragile, resilient human being.
of all the lessons i learned, honesty and compassion showed up the strongest.
finally, the cheesy “the truth will set you free” truism makes sense. i cannot hide from myself. i cannot sweep into darkened closets those things i’d rather not clean. for those things are my greatest teachers. to see them with eyes of compassion, and to filter them through a heart of love, leads to a cleansing process so personal i barely have the words to describe.
ultimately, this second training brought to me the gift of knowing a little more deeply who i am, not necessarily where i am going. teaching may not rest on the horizon like i so thought it would. however, this work of healing, does. i’ve scratched an iceberg whose shape i don’t yet know.
and, for once, that is okay.
for now i rest in the knowledge that i am growing — that we all are growing — far more than we can imagine. patience works wonders. trust heals all misgivings. honor the light within and the light without. the answers are not always meant to be had.
yours in growth,