I came to yoga completely unlike the generation before mine and exactly like the one right after.
I was bored. Living in a big, beautiful house. I ate well, I drank even better and I had friends and a man. I was, on paper, pretty set. But I was real bored.
So I did what millions of women like me have done, I took my tight, white ass to a yoga studio. I was pretty broke, despite my sweet life circumstances, so I bounced from studio to studio taking advantage of their free intro weeks.
The more I practiced, the better I felt. So after just a couple months of barely understanding what people kept telling me was 5,000 year old practice, I signed up for a teacher training. Naturally.
As I barreled full boar into this expensive, magical study that made veiled promises to change my life, I'd secretly hoped it would fix the broken relationship I'd been hanging on to for months.
We no longer knew how to be with each other. After a super long time of dealing with a depressed, self-loathing, bored, lazy b-word, the boyf didn't know how to be with me, even as I struggled to heal myself with the magic of yoga. Sometimes people don't know how to be together if they aren't doing the very things that typically drive people a part.
That's when yoga ruined everything.
When we broke up, it was the worst thing. I have never felt so broken. I had no money and no substantial source of income, so some friends saved me and put me up. I cried and drank all the High Life and smoked all the American Spirits. I lost a lot of weight super fast. Then I gained a bunch. My favorite thing to do was to go to yoga to soothe a hangover and finish it off with a cigarette in my car in the parking lot. Namaste, for sure.
I'm gonna say all that over again in one sentence:
I kept finding external reasons to feel bad for myself because I've spent my life waiting for someone or something to come along and make it better.
Look, living a life full of happiness and bliss is hard fucking work (and we can discuss another time why that shouldn't be your end goal, anyway). Life is highs and lows and coming to a lot of the same realizations over and over again. Along the way, you'll find little tools that help – usually until they don't – and then you'll find something else.
Then you'll die.
But! Before that, if you're lucky enough to live a long life, you'll get to witness the death a bunch of people you love. Don't worry, more babies will be born and life will go on without us. Biologically speaking, all we're doing is distracting ourselves from one certainty. We use drugs, yoga, friends, parties, our children, our significant others, our jobs, our art – whatever – to distract us from death and pass the time in a way that (hopefully) feels meaningful.
And, as it turns out, there isn't anything wrong with that. It may seem like an oversimplification of our time of this planet, but perhaps that's exactly what we need. Maybe we need to zoom out and see the simplicity of our existence so we stop obsessing over e v e r y t h i n g allthetime.