Yoga

DISCLAIMER:

If anyone actually decides to read posts prior to this one, please know that I purposely decided not to create a brand new blog, but instead to rename my old one, leaving all the old posts up, because that is where I came from and it has made me into who I am.  I mostly, if not entirely, do not agree with the philosophy behind my old thoughts anymore but I do believe in myself and I have no shame in having come from there.  The end.  Hope you my new mind frame:

Yoga came into my life in 2007 as a first-year baby in college.
I signed up for a single-unit class at CSULB to meet the required full-time student class load.
I was a judgmental bitch (I didn't say that yet) in 2007 so I instantly began picking apart everything:
Stupid teacher.
Stupid concepts.
Stupid people.
Just plain stupid.
(How I got into college with a twelve year old's emotional level, I know not.)
Anyways, two years passed and the "let's drop out of college and move to Portland" thing happened... Followed by me, well, not... and then living on the couch at Eleanor and then with my parents...
Yeah...

By the end of 2010, I found myself re-living at Eleanor and re-enrolled at CSULB.
I grew up a lot during my unexpected year off of college.
But even with all that growing, I was terrified shitless as I moved back to Long Beach;
Back to something I so vehemently ran from.
Ran. Ran. and Ran.
Until I couldn't run any longer.

2011: A new year.  A newly declared History major. A newly-diagnosed depressed me.
So I signed up for yoga again because I heard they hired a new instructor.
Sure, why not.
Yoga and I were not friends at first.
My yoga instructor asked the class to write down our feelings as an assignment.
Feelings?!  How dare she say that word.  Doesn't she know it's a dirty word?!
Apparently not...
I still did what she asked... Because I'm one of those kids and it was an assignment.
During our next class, she said the strangest thing while we were in a really difficult pose:
"When the pose reaches discomfort, instead of getting out of it, breathe into what you are feeling."
I fell out of my pose; my mouth agape - half scoffing, half intrigued.
As I resumed my position, she continued:
"Wherever there is tightness or discomfort in your pose, direct your breath there."
Okay...
When I finally stopped scoffing at the idea and actually did it, I immediately stopped.
A memory I distinctly remembered burying years ago came and scared the shit out of me.
Instead of falling out again, I shut my eyes and directed my breath (whatever the fuck that meant) towards the discomfort because the song I'm Not Afraid (yes, I like Eminem) started playing in my head and I'm relatively stubborn (shocking) so I sang that song to the scary memory because that just made sense and it wasn't so scary anymore.
Needless to say, I stopped scoffing and have been doing yoga ever since.

Flash forward to the past five months of my life:
I've been going to yoga on Sundays in place of church since March (long story).
Sometimes I'll tell people what I think about while doing yoga and they say I should write about it.
I don't really know why...  I think everyone can do it.
But I desperately need to write again and this may very well be a good vehicle to do so.
So I'm going to start doing that.
You're welcome to join.
Cheers.