I don't mean to brag-it's just what happened

I began practicing yoga asana when I was about 20 years old. At the time, I was strong, flexible, and a quick learner. I could easily replicate movements I watched, which helped me progress quickly in both yoga and karate. Within two and a half years, I earned my black belt and became an instructor. Not long after moving to Bucks County, my yoga teacher asked me to start teaching for her program—despite my lack of formal training (teacher training programs were rare back then).


I am not bragging, I am just telling you what happened.
In many ways, I believe that quick advancement wasn’t great for me.
But, it is how it happened.
What do I understand about that now? I had a lot of catching up to do, and my training is not over. (Thank goodness!)

I suppose you could say it was my dharma to practice and then teach these embodied disciplines. Even though I began yoga in 1986, I can honestly say I wasn’t really practicing until 1999, when I started teacher training with Parvathi. Then in 2003, when I met Mukunda, I realized just how much more there was to learn. Before that, my practice relied almost entirely on my physical strength and flexibility. There was no depth, no current, no real juice flowing through the poses—I wasn’t plugged in! I was mostly performing. Yes, there was plenty of sweating, but that is just one kind of effort, and that physical effort is not the one that has truly served me these many decades. Ironically, now—older, less flexible, and physically weaker —I’m more engaged than ever.


Something in yoga clearly touched me at a deep level, given how much time and money I’ve poured into trainings, immersions, retreats, and workshops. Before the blessing of Zoom, I would travel wherever my teachers were teaching, never once hesitating about the cost—as long as I could find coverage for my kids. (These days, it’s more about coverage for my dog.) Of course, I always searched for the cheapest flights and simplest accommodations, because resources are often scarce.


I know how fortunate I am to feel this strong pull—this choiceless choice—to keep showing up. That, more than physical strength and flexibility, I now realize is my greatest superpower: I continue to participate. I don’t see it as praiseworthy; it’s simply the hand I was dealt. If there’s a training with a teacher or lineage I love, I’ll be there. Whether I’ve studied the material before, whether it seems repetitive or too basic—it doesn’t matter. Save me a spot, because I’m coming. I don't know why I am this way, I just am. 


But maybe it isn’t just me falling in love with the practice. Maybe it’s the practice calling me. That’s certainly how it feels at times—like I’m being pulled, and my only real superpower is that I say yes without hesitation. For that, I’m profoundly grateful. Life hasn’t always made it easy—raising kids, divorce, moving, running a store and studio, navigating all the inevitable “life stuff.” And yet, it has always worked out.


I remember when I was newly divorced and worried about not being able to afford a retreat our teacher was holding, my dear friend told me that if I ever needed money for something like that, she would give it to me. But,  she reminded me, I didn’t have to worry, because the resources would always show up. And I believed  she knew what she was talking about—she had gone through graduate school and pursued her own spiritual studies while raising three young boys on her own. And she was right: the support always has arrived.


She helped me see that when you intentionally stand in the path of Grace, the universe conspires to meet you there. It does require a leap of faith now and then—but those early leaps taught me to trust. So when the universe calls, I don’t doubt. I simply go.


Of course I send this message now because we have the immersion, and a lot of other workshops and series, coming up. If you are asking yourself should I, and the pull is strong, maybe it is time to let the pull, let grace, win.