A sweet student of mine had an article published and she is a really great writer.

The article is by By Lisa Marie Sterr and it's on Page 7 of the Fall issue of the Networker

Lisa Marie is really talented and lovely and open and honest and I cherish our relationship very much. We go way back have shared many a yoga class together. She inspires me. She wrote this one evening after a yoga class with me and I am glad she shared it with me. I can certainly relate in a huge way to much of what she says. 

It’s nice that yoga is always there for us through challenging times AND happy times. *All we have to do it show up. 

It isn't always easy, but we always feel better for it on every level. That’s the promise of yoga.

Here it is: Sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places. I’ve been feeling so tormented lately; full of raw emotions. About an hour before leaving for my yoga class, I have the most intense cry. I am so sad. Yet somehow I manage to eat, put on my yoga clothes, and head out the door.

Entering the classroom, I notice the soft lighting. My yoga teacher says hi to me by name, and I feel like she’s happy to see me. I settle on a mat. As the class begins, I focus on breathing. Still, it is a struggle to stay present, since I’ve been floating away from my body so much lately. I tell myself it will be a victory if I can have even moments of being grounded.

In the quiet room, all I can hear is my teacher’s voice, the yoga music and the sound of people breathing. Everything else falls away. I focus on my body and on following the poses. My neglected body, so alienated and uninhabited, is now moving and stretching. I feel it freeze, as it has been doing so often lately. I take a moment to notice it, then start moving again.

In the “downward dog” pose, I push all my tension, all my feelings of being trapped, into my arms. In “warrior,” I stand tall and feel my feet rooting down. My vision sharpens and I am present in the room, for the first time in weeks. I twist and bend, feeling the rawness in my joints, the heat rushing through my body.

And then the reward: relaxation.

I relax into my teacher’s voice – a pleasant melody soothing all the discordant notes inside me; into the supports under my head and knees and the cushioning of the yoga mat beneath me. The floor is smooth and cool under my hands. It is safe here. For the first time in weeks, I can rest.

Fluid, juicy sensations float through me as I leave the class. I’m melty, like the most exquisite piece of chocolate, and also warm and tingly, like feeling really close to someone. My body has been craving this sooth- ing – which I found, not in a bag of cookies or in my therapy group, but at yoga. I found it inside my body, where I’ve been feeling so much torment. I don’t know how long it will last; the anguish may come flooding back tomorrow. But for now I revel, and rest, in the relief.