Yoga to Heal
I used to think yoga was a culty “exercise” for middle age ladies until my friend, Jade, took me one after my first breakup. Back then, I…
I used to think yoga was a culty “exercise” for middle age ladies until my friend, Jade, took me one after my first breakup. Back then, I was in London, screaming on the rocky riverside of the River Thames. The weight of my anguish, like a torrential downpour, spilled forth from my eyes, nose, and throat every day. In the middle of the night, I’d clutch the sink, retching, horrified by my own reflection in the mirror.
My health deteriorated when sleep evaded me, consumed by a grief that threatened to swallow me whole. However, when the yoga teacher’s vocal instruction touched my face, I found that my body still worked for me. Stronger than I thought. In its rhythm, though still in pain, I discovered a bit of solace, releasing tension and finding respite within the depths of my being.
“Place your palms together on your third eye. That’s your kind intention. Lower them to your eyes. Gratefully see the world in front of you. Gently place your hands to your heart center, connecting to the center of love within you.” Yet it was in a single moment, when my palms pressed against the earth, that something inexplicable occurred. A surge of power, like an ethereal string, flowed from my fingertips, weaving a unity with all beings on this vast Earth like a spider net.
After the class, the only thing I remember is that when I showered, my body no longer belongs to my ex, the external pain, but to myself again.
This morning, when I woke up feeling a pinch of pain, I allowed myself to surrender to tears. After that, I rolled up my mat and felt grateful for the equanimity that I can still find, though briefly, during difficult moments in my life.
This is the second post from my 30-day writing challenges. I was inspired by Tung Nguyen, a friend who is a famous blogger. He overcame the fear of creation through mass-producing blogs and eventually found his own niche audiences.