When I rediscovered yoga in my adult life, I began to come home to a complex self I hadn't realized it was okay for me to be. Yoga knit together my creativity, my love of movement, my expressiveness, my bookishness, and my spiritual life. Yoga brought these diverse aspects of who I was into relationship. This had unexpected results.
At first yoga just brought me ease. I was so stressed out from the New York art world that I initially couldn't keep my eyes closed in savasana. I lay on my back, staring past the metal basement beams of Crunch gym up toward the ceiling that vibrated from the bass beat of workout music.
Once I figured out how to keep my eyes closed in savasana, my practice brought me delight. The landscape of my inner body and mind became rich and fertile, with endless space for exploration. The first surprising result of my yoga was that boredom ceased to exist as an experience for me. That may sound trite or silly, but it was actually quite amazing. In the subway, in a doctor's waiting room, on a long airplane ride: I had practices to do and things to think about. Movement. Mantra. Meditation. I learned to carry my universe around with me, and to love being there.