Namaste 

There is something about it. A calmness. I can’t quite put my finger on it, and I wouldn’t be able to do it by myself. Namaste.

            Growing up dancing, I never set foot into a gymnasium for sports, weight training, or really anything. I found peace in having another place, another family. I loved growing up in my dance studio. It felt like home. When spending 10-15 hours there a week since the age of 12, it had to.

            When I came to college, I didn’t quite know what I was going to do. Freshman year, I found a love for running (I definitely had to dig deep for it, but I eventually found it). Having never been allowed to run as a dancer, it was freeing. It was an inner challenge and a goal-oriented exercise that I quickly got addicted to. Unfortunately, over the summer my running habits fell a bit as I got back into ballet. While I had enjoyed running, I realized that nothing could really compare with the complexity of ballet- the desire for unattainable perfection. It is a full mind-body intricacy, but again I struggled as I ventured back to school. What can I try this year?

            A few weeks into school, I decided to do my first proper yoga class. I hated it. It was hard and I was frustrated that I wasn’t strong enough to hold myself, but the week following that class, I was calmer, happier, and more energized. All of my aches and pains vanished, so I figured suck it up and try it again.

            I got a group of people together and we walked to a yoga class about a mile and a half from campus. We rolled out our mats and let our bare toes form crevasses in the foam. A soothing music filled the negative space in the room and our instructor began with breathing. I learned new things about this activity that I have been participating in every minute of every day for my entire life. I had no idea the power of breath. This first class I began getting frustrated but the instructor saw the tension that I was holding and announced to the class, “Let your body do what it does naturally. Don’t try to make it pretty. Do what feels rights.” With this, the stubborn part of me diminished and my muscles unclenched. Not caring what I looked like, a sense of fluidity came across my movements. Before I knew it, the class was over. “Namaste,” the instructor said as she bowed. I closed my eyes and pushed the palms of my hands together and bowed back. “Namaste.”  

            I don’t know if it is the “yoga breathing,” the stretching and strengthening, or the soothing music and gracefulness of the Sanskrit language but since I have started this weekly yoga regime, I have seemed to find a new home, a new exercise, and a new home.