Homeless

While yoga is a very individual, personal experience, it is often practiced, at least initially, amongst a group of like-minded people. Once you've found a class, a teacher, and a studio that you feel comfortable with, all of a sudden you become a loyal customer. When you try a class at another studio, oftentimes, it just doesn't quite feel right, and you return to your beloved teacher with a little bit of relief.

So what happens when your teacher moves away or, gasp, your home studio shuts its doors for good? When I first discovered yoga, I was a devotee of Jivamukti Yoga Studio in Astor Place, NYC. My teacher was Christopher Hildebrandt, I came to love his Sarvangasana adjustments, his gentle demeanor, and his inspiring instruction. When I made the decision to move away from NYC to South Korea, it was with the awareness and knowledge that likely it would be a very very long time before I'd be taking group yoga classes again. I hadn't yet discovered the passion for the practice that I developed later in life, so though it was a loss, I didn't feel the loss quite so keenly.

A little more than 4 years ago, I moved to Washington, DC, and discovered yoga again at Georgetown Yoga. Here I found a home studio that had exactly what I needed at the time - knowledgeable and compassionate teachers, friendly and relaxed students, within biking or walking distance from my home, and an undefinable, unquantifiable aura of generosity and good-naturedness. Sounds perfect, huh? Even as I acknowledged some drawbacks of the studio and realized the potential benefits of learning from different teachers, I was continually drawn back by the feel of the place. Georgetown Yoga is where I re-discovered myself, where I worked so hard and achieved things I never thought possible. I developed friendships as well as a new perception of my mind and body. And then the catastrophic happened. Within 3 months, I lost my teacher (she moved to NY) and the studio shut down (the lease was not renewed). What was a girl to do?

I began to yoga studio shop. I attended classes at three or four different studios in DC, found some that I liked, found some that I didn't like, and found some that I was a bit indifferent to. But it turned out that adopting a new studio and new teachers, even when I liked them, was a difficult thing to do. It required me to let go of my old studio. It's almost like a romantic relationship. The relationship is doomed if you can't stop measuring it against your former partners. Memories are important to keep and treasure because you will never have the same experience again. Even were the same variables put in place, you are a different person today than before, and therefore your perception of your experience will be different. If you can't let go of the past, then you sacrifice finding joy in the present. Acknowledging the beauty of your memories, yet not being imprisoned by them, opens a whole new world of possibilities and opportunities. They may not all be good, some may even be painful, but some may be life-changing and transcendental. It's a difficult thing to do, I can't emphasize that enough. But maybe it is by virtue of the fact that it takes enormous courage, that it can be that much more valuable.

Whether it is a new yoga studio or a relationship or moving halfway across the country, I wish you luck and bravery to embrace and seek out the challenge of finding and inviting a new kind of joy into your lives.

Namaste,
Cindy