Why I Still do Yoga.

As I sit on my back deck, the sunshine beating down on my face, I say my final "Namaste," my hands in prayer position. I bring them up to my third eye, touching my forehead and bending down to the ground, grateful for the time I had to come to my mat this morning. Nothing is more energizing to me than doing sun salutations to the actual sun. Not hiding away indoors, like I need to during the chilling Canadian winters. I feel grounded, energized and ready to kick this day's ass. Having practiced yoga for 14 years, I now consider myself a 'yogi', but let's just say my journey to yoga was a rocky one, I hit a few speedbumps along the way.

I was in my early twenties when the yoga movement started, this great new exercise fad that was sweeping through my urban centre. Everyone was doing it and everyone loved it, "a mind, body, soul experience," my friend told me, "like, I'm losing weight, but my soul is being exercised and its just the coolest thing, it brings about a sense of real oneness with your body, you know?" I didn't know, I had no idea what she was talking about. I had never thought about "exercising my soul," in fact as someone who had been raised in a very conservative Christian household, I rebelled at the idea of anything spiritual, after all it had taken my entire life to escape from the nightmare I called church. That being said she did look great. She claimed it was something called hot yoga, wear the sweat just rolled off of you and so did the pounds. So I thought, "what the hell?" I might as well give it a try, go just once and see what I think. My friend told me I could get a free one month pass, so that I could go as much as I wanted and try a variety of classes. Growing up I practiced ballet my entire life, from three to eighteen, so I knew I had the flexibility and the strength. What twenty something year old doesn't want to lose just five more pounds?

So off I went to the nearest hot yoga studio. It was right across the street from my apartment, offered yoga mat rentals and welcomed me with a 'zenness' I hadn't experienced anywhere else. I signed up for my free month pass, paid the two dollars for my yoga mat and walked off to the changerooms. They had calming background music playing and a fountain that greeted my on my way to the women's change rooms. I already felt more at peace, and I hadn't really done anything yet. "This is going to be amazing," I thought to myself, carrying all the positive vibes with me into the studio. Walking in, the lights were dimmed and the room was already hot, with what I assumed were Buddhist monks 'ohming' in the background. I chose a spot in the middle row, along the wall. I didn't want to look like a total newbie so I chose not to go to the very back. After all I was a dancer, how hard could this class be? As different people trickled in, I noticed they all had different starting routines, some would come in and lie down, others would begin stretching, still others would sit in what looked like a meditative state, legs crossed, eyes closed, arms resting on thighs with funny finger positions at the end. All of this enthralled me, I could feel my soul calling out to what was going on around me and I started to understand, in my own small way, how this type of practice could become an all encompassing workout. Mind, body, soul. I couldn't wait to get started and see how I felt after class.

The teacher walked in. I remember her not being what I expected. Call me prejudiced, but I thought a young, pot smoking, hippie stick figure would be walking in to teach this class, instead she was a middle-aged brunette, with a beautiful curvy body who looked like she'd never done any drugs in her life. (Very judgmental of me in the moment, I know, but I'm going for full honesty here.) She started with welcoming us to class, and letting all the new people know what to expect,

"Welcome to this Vinyasa hot yoga class, we have a lot of new faces here today, we're excited to have you." Her voice was calming, friendly and welcoming. "This class is for all levels, and body types. Throughout the class I will offer a variety of options for poses, so whether you're looking for more of a challenge, or just trying to make it through, this is a great class to start out with."

"Perfect," I think to myself.

"Because this is a hot yoga class, I would like to challenge all of our beginner yogis to just stay in the class today. You're first time working out in this kind of heat can get overwhelming, so if you get to a point where you are starting to feel anxious, or overwhelmed, just lie down on your mat and breath. Remember, we aren't here to judge, or compare, we are here to listen to our bodies and take care of them." I am going to crush this! Not only do I love the heat, I am athletic and flexible. Oh how smug I was, if only I had the gift of foresight!

She had us come onto all fours, we do something called cat, cow, flowing with our breath. From there she had us move into a wide child's pose, and then into puppy pose. And that's when it happened. I farted. I didn't even know I had gas, but in that moment, my body let it rip out of me like a foghorn at a baseball game. The teacher stammered while guiding the class, the girls beside me looked at me in disgust, obviously wanting to make sure everyone knew it wasn't one of them and the cute guy in front of me stifled a laugh. That poor soul behind me. It was the worst of both worlds, because not only was it loud, but it smelt bad. When I say bad I mean BAD. Like rotten eggs mixed with sour milk bad. I didn't even think, I just reacted. I stood up grabbing my water bottle, and leaving the rental mat right where it was, walked straight out of that room. I was like a monopoly game, do not pass go, do not collect $200. I walked right past the change room, leaving my t-shirt behind and practically ran to the front door. I grabbed my flip flops and left, not even taking the time to put them on my feet. I continued my run across the street, into the elevator and up to my apartment, where I angrily threw all of my belongings onto the counter, and crumpled into a fetal position type ball in the corner of my room. I have never been so embarrassed in my life.

After a good ten minutes of crying and feeling sorry for myself, I grabbed my phone and angrily texted my friend telling her she was an idiot and I was never taking her advice again. Screw the 'mind, body, soul' experience, I didn't think I could recover from another experience like that, and in that moment I promised myself I would never practice yoga again. It was a promise I failed to keep. My PTSD from that first class prevented me from being able to relax my colon in any class I went to for about a year. But eventually, after switching to a studio across town (and I mean across town, I would drive for thirty minutes just to make sure I never ran into anyone that might recognize from that first class) I fell in love. The first few classes were a little stressful, but the feeling I had after leaving those classes was a high I got hooked on. Every time I walked out of the studio, I felt like a whole new me. My thinking cleared, my anxiety decreased, my soul started to repair itself. For so long I had pushed away any spirituality from my life, thinking spirituality equaled religion. Yoga brought my soul back to life, in a more personal, healthy way. It taught me that I could be spiritual and connect with myself on multiple levels, without having to adopt some rigidly myopic religious viewpoint. Rather I was able to open up and experience an entirely new side of myself. I never lost that five pounds, but what I gained was so much more than I could have imagined I would get from a new exercise fad.

And now, fourteen years later and after one year of COVID, I am so grateful to have yoga in my life, even though it looked different this year. I look forward to my morning routine and my opportunity to align my physical, spiritual and emotional being as I get ready to embrace and take on each new day. Heading out to my back deck as the sun rises, yoga mat and iPhone in hand, with my app ready to go, a sense of calm settles over me, knowing I am caring for more than just my physical self. As I complete my yoga practice each day, I am grateful that it has been enough time that I can look back and laugh at the young adult I was and the enthusiasm with which my colon decided to announce my participation in this new type of exercise. "Namaste."