It's odd really, how after living in Los Angeles for 13 years that I never developed a yoga practice. I realize now, the opportunities that were missed. The amazing studios that were once in my back pocket or an hour-drive-with-traffic-back-pocket. Around my last year prior to an adventurous move to Connecticut, I took my very first yoga class. My friend suggested we take a series. I laugh at it all now. No, I wasn't going to check out the water temperature by toe dip-age into a single drop in class: My plan was to commit to two classes twice a week for 6 weeks. The series was Kundalini.
To this day, it is still all a blur. There was a lot of white material and my instructor was 87 years old and practiced on a little stage higher than the rest of us. (and pleas note, she was amazing!) At the beginning of each class, we were instructed to hold our ankles while standing and proceed to walk like a crab between the length of the room walls. There were foot rubs with strangers. We were given recipes to make each week. My roommate at the time nearly killed me for the lentil, cumin, and cabbage stew scent that lingered throughout the apartment for the following nine days.
I went to every class and took notes in my binder. I really wish I could find that binder. However, thankfully, I did purchase a book my instructor had written: Kundalini Yoga, The Flow of Eternal Power by Shakti Parwha Kaur Khalsa.
Even though I was completely lost while doing the poses and was hesitant on asking questions because I couldn't pronounce my teacher's name, I was still in awe. I fell in love with this thing I couldn't understand. The friend who made me take the series with her dropped half way through. She said it scared her. It scared me too but in the way that compelled me to push through it. Kundalini opened the door for me to hear Sanskrit chanting for the first time which in turn threw a net over my heart. I don't think I will ever return to Kundalini as a yoga practice but I am so very thankful for the time we spent together.
Now, I continue a practice through Vinyasa. My attention to this form grew of my short living stint in Wilton, CT. I became friends with a group of women who had recently finished a Teacher in Training series. One by the name of Kelly was gaining her yoga wings by teaching in a community garden. Every Sunday I began to find a new understanding of this practice. As the towering trees that once held strong to budding green leaves soon became bare limbs. I changed in those seasons as well. Yoga had found me or I had found yoga. I honestly do not know the answer to that...
My Connecticut state has been replaced by Tennessee. How quickly my first two years in Nashville have progressed. I moved here within months after my dear father's death. I clung to what was familiar and began to search for a studio. I found a sanctuary properly named. Again, I wonder if this place found me or vice versa? You just never know how a story will end. My experience with yoga began with "balancing the glandular system" (quoted from the above mentioned book) and now, I'm excited to see where it will evolve.