Today, overcome with emotion like so many other aching souls, I wept.
Deep layers of grief and relief, intertwined so tightly it was impossible to discern endings and beginnings. They came from within in shoulder-shaking fits, hope rising amid the brutal artifacts of sorrows collected over the eternity and flash of the past four years. Lodged throughout the layers of our body; scores stored in the unconscious and subtle. Shadows awaiting our attention and intention. Ever-patient with our self-preserving inattention.
The collective trauma, held in our hearts and hips and throats and shoulders.
Ours to bear. To witness. To share.
10 Lessons I Learned From My First Private Yoga Student
Kelly was my first private yoga student.
We began our work together at the start of 2020 in her apartment’s gym. For the first few months of the year, we met every Tuesday and Thursday morning, doing our best to find a quiet space in a sea of solopreneurs getting their HIIT’s on while making VERY IMPORTANT phone calls. Let’s just say it wasn’t the most Zen of environments. But true to form, it’s pretty much what you expect if you teach yoga in New York City. …