When my husband first immigrated to Canada he was very dedicated to his yoga practice. Meditation every morning, asana practice, mantra, japa… then we had a baby. Yoga slid to the sidelines. I was exhausted, I pushed myself and did yoga. He was exhausted, he slept. I teased him a bit and he always replied with “Life is yoga“. I thought it was a cop out. I still kind of do. However, he has a valid point. We get a little caught up in “should” when it comes to our ideas of yoga practice. Yes, a regular practice makes the body and mind feel healthy and at ease but if it is a chore, a thing that brings dread, a tired body going through the motions… are we really doing yoga at that point?
I live in a town where there are tons of teachers, tons of workshops, tons of pretty damn awesome yoga stuff happening. I miss almost all of it. I have a family. Retreats just don’t happen in my life. Workshops cost a fortune. Feeding my family is more important. Sometimes I feel like I am missing out but then I remind myself. It is all yoga. My practice is taking deep long breaths while my daughter throws rocks in the water at the lake. My practice is a stretch on the porch at 5am when I let the cat out. My practice is hugging my teen son tight in my arms when he is going through a heartbreak. Yoga is about connection, union, being fully present without striving or envy. In my life that occurs in the sweetness of my home.