I get by with a little help.

This week has been…well, almost magical. It seems that just as I needed it, all the support I could ever hope for, all of the love, and friendships, long talks, yoga, and nice weather, all of it showed up at once. Now, I want every week to be this way!

I haven’t written much, instead I have just been soaking in, everything. I have been soaking, steeping, in my emotions (all of them), my thoughts, my daily practices, my life. This life is good. But what makes it so good is all of the people in it. What makes it so good is the ability to take a breath, and look around. To see what is outside of me, and then to dive deep within. This balance of inner and outer has been so sweet this week.

My dreams have always been vivid, lucid even. And sometimes, in yoga nidra, or savasana I can slip into this lucid place. This week I was gifted twice, this ability to slip, into a realm beyond myself. I found myself, in these quiet moments, with eyes closed, both flying though vast galaxies, and swimming within my own body. I found myself happy, and at peace with whatever life chooses to bring my way. The gift of these moments has surely carried over into waking time and space. This is the beauty of this practice.

I heard myself telling a friend this week that my yoga practice has changed. I was comparing myself, my practice, to my practice before my son was born, before pregnancy changed my body and motherhood changed my soul. I said that my practice was not as strong as it had once been. I felt a certain self-consciousness, and sadness admitting this. But looking back, what I should have said is that my practice is not as physical as it had once been. I’m no longer striving towards head stand, or arm balances, at least not regularly. I no longer emphasize core strengthening postures, or treat my yoga practice as a workout. But my practice is strong. In fact, my practice is as strong as it has ever been.

My practice exists in these moments, when I am able to take a breath, and be both outside and within myself. My practice exists when I speak to my son, using every ounce of my being to respond to him in the way that he needs me to. My practice happens from the moment I wake up, looking into his eyes as we lay next to each other, to the moment we fall asleep, our bodies snuggled close, his fingers tangling themselves in my hair. My practice is yoga, it is meditation, it is dharma, it is my life. My practice lives in my heart, and it is strong.

This week reminded me of this fact. All of the people I encountered and spoke with, exchanged thoughts, and hugs, and laughter with, you all reminded me. Thank you. Thank you for reminding me of my own strength. Thank you for showing me yours. Thank you for being. Here. With me. I truly do get by with a little help from my friends.

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(Have I ever mentioned how much I love the Beatles?)

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