Yoga, my old friend

It was a hard summer. A challenging summer. A summer that forced me to be *super* *radically* honest with myself about the role I was playing in my own suffering. 

A summer that asked me, “Are you sure you wanna surrender? Cuz you’re gonna have to let go of the illusion.” 

And a summer that gave me no other choice but to finally let that illusion go – some of it at least.

I wanted a summer to surrender, so God brought me to my knees. And eventually to my mat – the place that always holds me when I don’t know where else to go.

I finally let go of el ex toxico, and hobbled my way back to the yoga studio after a 3 year hiatus. It’s not that I haven’t done any yoga since 2020. Peloton yoga has kept me afloat in some ways. But you know how it is…there’s nothing like practicing in a studio. With a teacher. With other students. In a shared space.

I walked into Red Lotus Yoga skeptical, but mostly a little scared. Scared because my body wasn’t the same. Scared because I haven’t immersed myself in a community since the pandemic (actual humans I need to interact with?!). And scared because I knew once I made this (re)commitment to my yoga practice, there was no turning back.

That subconscious fear translated into judgment. The first couple of weeks my mind was preoccupied with nitpicking everything, mostly because it didn’t want to sit with the discomfort.

I let my mind do its thing. And remembered Sunil’s words of wisdom:

“You are always, first and foremost, a student. Every teacher you encounter has been brought to you for a reason – to teach you something you need to learn. Remain open.”

And that’s what I did. That’s what I tried really hard to do. Once my mind got past the fact that I wasn’t in India with Indian teachers practicing yoga, but in Michigan with Michigan teachers practicing yoga (lmao) I was able to get out of my head, into my body and eventually into my soul.

That’s when the real yoga began. And that’s when I started crawling myself out of the hole.

Although nobody ever asks (lol), every yogi and yogini tries to answer the question:

“What is yoga?”

I’m convinced yoga is just one of those things you need to practice regularly to truly understand it. We don’t really have the language to explain this beautiful, transformative, complex, God-sent, ancient Indian tradition. Not in English at least.

Yoga, for me, is my religion. A sort of how-to-live guide. A compass guiding me and keeping me grounded in God’s unconditional love.

And it’s what I turn to when I need to crawl myself out of the hole I (once again) dug myself into. 

Kind of like how Christianity has the Ten Commandments, Yoga has The 8 Limbs of Yoga, which gives us a sort of step-by-step process to transcend the mind and reach the ultimate goal of yoga — Samadhi, enlightenment.

Yes, it’s a physical practice, but that’s only 1 of the 8 limbs – Asanas. And even then, the asanas aren’t just a physical practice. When you’re on your mat day in and day out, it becomes a spiritual practice, each pose an offering to God.

It’s not just exercise. Maybe it’s the focus on the breathing. Maybe it’s holding the poses still. Maybe it’s the heart and hip openers. I don’t know. But it’s not like normal exercise. I don’t feel this inner shift when I, for example, was spinning regularly. 

Asanas are something different. Something ethereal. For real.

So after a few weeks of asanas at Red Lotus Yoga I felt, honestly, amazing. In comparison to how shtty I felt when I wasn’t practicing regularly. I started craving fresh, clean food. I felt healthier. But above all, I felt grateful. So grateful. For all of the teachers at the studio – they’re all truly wonderful. And I especially felt grateful for my favorite yoga teacher of all time.

Sunil.

Sunil taught me yoga philosophy and asanas when I did my Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) in India in 2017. To me, he is yoga. The embodiment of yoga.

He challenged everything I thought a yoga teacher was supposed to be. He was stoic, yet gentle. Quiet, with a powerful presence. He had the kindest eyes behind those glossy spectacles. His hair always cut clean and combed in place. He wore khakis to every class. Always with a yoga themed t-shirt. 

His sequence was always the same. The same poses. Every time. No variety. No music. No singing bowls. No nothing. But yoga.

He never lectured us during asana practice. Not one inspirational quote was spoken during our practice. All he ever said was “relax” in between cues for the next pose. Actually, he would sing that “relax”. And a beautiful deep OM at the end of class. Followed by the sincerest smile.

His adjustments were a gentle, one finger touch. And he barely spoke.

But his energy. Was. EVERYTHING. I left every single one of his classes high…really it’s the only way I can describe it. I even snuck into his classes on Sunday, my only day off from YTT.

Sunil taught me not to talk the yoga talk, but to walk the yoga walk.

And he taught me, showed me, it doesn’t matter what you say while teaching a class. Your energy speaks for itself. That if you want to be a good yoga teacher, you must be a good yoga student first. You must honor self-study and self-practice. You must remain open to every teacher you encounter. And you must never forget that as a yoga teacher, you are there to serve, not receive.

Sunil didn’t look like a “yoga teacher”. He didn’t dress like a “yoga teacher”. He didn’t motivate or inspire or lecture like a “yoga teacher.”

Because he wasn’t a “yoga teacher.”

He was yoga. He is yoga. And I hope one day, I can be yoga, too.