The records of my recovery always seem to surface in the weeks leading up to my anniversary through body aches, animal dreams, escalated emotion and a simultaneous mix of an anxious mind and the lethargy of sorrow’s memory. While not entirely productive, this natural release of endorphin mixed with heartache softens the edges around this waxing phase. I’m reminded once again of the unconscious organizing of my annual calendar around my anniversary in which the other 364 days are either all the days leading up to it, or all the days the follow.
This reflection on the significance of my anniversary has been a work in subconscious progress over the past few years, slowly distilled through my journey on the mat and captured for a moment in a poem. My attempt to memorialize loss emanates from my explorations with a yoga teacher who unveiled an enlightening approach to philosophy, intuition, energy, meditation and the syncing of oneself with the organic animation of the body. She essentially revolutionized my inner experience of myself – in my asana practice, and more importantly in my life – and she brought me back to my beginner’s mind where everything is possible. This daily practice serves me as a human and particularly as a survivor. There are endless options for how we find the balance required to remain present and simultaneously build the energy to move forward – no matter how many times we fail, no matter how deep our wound. Yoga refines our ability to recognize our own resilience.
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