One of the things that yoga teaches me
is this lifelong trip with my body is a love story. Some days I
struggle, some days practice is effortless, some days I laugh through
it, some days discouragement is the loudest voice in the room. Over
the last year, though, yoga has been a kind of matchmaker. My body
and I are getting along a lot more beautifully than we used to. I can’t tell you how grateful for
that I am today.
If you’re someone who has been a part
of this conversation with me, you know I’ve been in Bangkok, at the
beginning of what I thought would be three months of backpacking
around South East Asia. Three days in, I received a note from
home saying my lovely man has a tumor in his right eye. (His green
eye. He has one blue and one green, both beautiful).
Three days, half a world, and another
universe later, I’m at home, backpack empty and in a closet, six
inches of snow outside, and my lovely man sleeping next to me. We’re
here for the insane ten days it takes for his treatment to begin in
During these ten days, we’re grateful
for each other, for the people around us, and for all the good things
in our lives. Including yoga, which has changed our
relationship with ourselves and our bodies. I won’t speak for Pat,
but it is invaluable, today, for me to have a familiar practice that
makes my body a love story, at a time when it might feel very
A friend of mine describes his practice
as his body singing to him. During my own practice this morning,
I’m going to sing to myself and to Pat.
This trip ahead will not be a story of
illness. (Cancer will not be the loudest voice in the room.) It’s
going to be a love story.
I don’t have any questions to ask
this week. Just love, love, love from me to you.
Thanks for the conversation,