yoga practice & LOVE

It was a recurring dream. Sometimes it would find me at night, sometimes during the day when my mind would drift.

I'm in the ocean. Alone. Water all around me. All I see in every direction. My head is bobbing up and down. I'm floating and I'm sinking. My legs and arms are proficient at paddling, but my body feels fatigued. I can only float for so long. I close my eyes and allow myself a rest. I drift under the surface, submerged fully. My body is finally weightless. I feel my hair swirling above me. My hair is weightless too.
But my heart is too full to be weightless. I kick my legs, remembering my purpose - my little Niya - only a year old. I gasp for my life as I break the surface. I breathe in hungrily for myself and for my daughter. My love saves me.

Outside of this dream, I know that it is love that saves me.  I know that my dream is not unique.  This dream has crept into the hearts and minds of others.  It is fear and suffering and life being harder than we had expected it to be.  Life being different from how we had planned.

My daughter's first years were a time of struggle, confusion and recoiling from dreams and expectations on what I thought life should be.  Parts of my heart and my flesh became rigid, dense and hidden.  Naivete gone, the cruelties of life attacked and I hardened in response.  My deep sadness was not alone though.  A new, constant, unwavering companion took up residence:  awe and love.  Untouchable love.  My daughter born, I had no idea what this love was or the depth of tenderness that one person could feel for another.  The hard parts of my heart dried out and retreated.  New, soft places grew - big and juicy, innocent and young.  One idea of love gone, my greatest love found me.  But I was still bobbing, still searching for land, for rest and safety for myself and my daughter.

Refuge and safety - I searched for deeper truths inside myself this time.  I had just learned that you need a strong inner before seeking a strong outer counterpart.  I returned to a yoga practice I had only just met during my pregnancy.

Class was a community of seekers.  People looking for increased wellness not just in body, but in mind and heart.  Exhaling in a group, holding difficult poses.  Holding difficulty and challenge together.  Holding the edges of self-imposed limits and then pushing gently further.  Finding new space to grow into.

It's years later now.  My ever awe-inspiring daughter is almost nine.  Life has settled down.  Our family has grown in love by one, a partner and husband for me, a papa for my girl.  I still find myself in the ocean, but I enjoy the water more.  I navigate it now with close friends and trust, my yoga practice and love.  My body and head drop below the surface and my feet easily find the soft, sandy bottom below.  I am weightless for a moment before springing off the sandy floor and rising triumphant into the sunshine and air. 

My husband watches me practice yoga almost everyday.  He is confused on why I am not a walking, talking, gentle body of constant serenity.  He doesn't understand how I still struggle when I have all those downward dogs sprinkled into my day.  Why do I still find myself bobbing in the ocean sometimes?  My response is primal and coming from a place of trusted inner knowledge.

I found yoga years ago to help me move through places I thought were walled up and impenetrable.  I practice because it helps me to stay afloat, to expand into new space, to remain alive and growing.  I practice precisely because I am not a light beam of constant peace.   I am human and beautifully flawed.   

My practice gives me new perspective.  I am in the ocean floating.  All around me, in every direction, I see water.   All around me, I see an endless field of possibility.