As I head off for a yoga retreat I recall how hard it was when I began practicing yoga. Now it’s as much a part of me as breathing.
…Breathing, for God’s sake! I couldn’t even breathe properly!
And, as for downward-facing dog, you had to be joking. My spindly little arms could not hold my body up. I was thinking, this is not for me, what is this yoga stuff? All I felt like doing was vomiting. The only thing that kept me going back was my yoga teacher. She honestly looked like she had a halo above her head—an aura? I don’t know what you call it but I so wanted to be like that. She was serene, calm, and had a wicked sense of humour. When your yoga class music is Africa by Toto, you have to be onto something good! I started thinking maybe this yoga stuff could be alright if I stuck it out. I had nothing else on the horizon other than looking down the barrel of twelve months of cancer treatment; anything had to be better than nothing.
I persevered through another four weeks of classes until one day it just came to me. I could do it – it was really making me feel better in my head.
I strangely became quickly addicted to it. I signed up for workshops, added classes, and roped my husband in.
I declared that, “Yoga has changed my life.” And it has, in more ways than one.
from The Leap Year