On Showing Up & Breathing
lessons from yoga
The first rule of any new endeavor is you’ve gotta show up to reap any of its benefits, be it having some fun, learning a new skill, or discovering a new you.
And so it is with yoga: you’ve gotta show up on your mat—and you’ve gotta show up for yourself.
And that’s what I finally did —Spring Break of 2015 (or so)*—when I started practicing yoga for the first time and learned how to show up for myself.
And how to breathe.
Yoga is not about self-improvement, but self-acceptance.
New social situations, even when socializing wasn’t the point—but still… there’s people—just felt (okay, sometimes still feels) awkward for me. The silence. And then the pregnant pause following my need to fill the silence. This feels different than the silence—the silence that was probably only awkward for me to begin with. Therefore, aca-awkward.
Yoga class never felt awkward; yoga felt easy; it felt natural. I felt very in my body**.
It felt easy because I had chosen a small local studio so I could avoid large groups and spiritually empty spaces. I knew what I didn’t want, and I visited a week before just to be sure.
It felt easy because the intimate space was instantly welcoming, first with the earthy scent of Nag Champa—burning on a shelf behind the entry desk— then with resonant tones of Native American flute backed by subtle, steady drumming. Of course, there are buddhas and lotus blossoms for days, and it all just brings a big smile to my face.
Walking into the studio itself— to the left, it’s a wall of windows looking out onto neighboring trees.
To the right, the studio mirror runs the length of the wall, and scripted above in decorative flourishes: Yoga is not about self-improvement, but self-acceptance.
My first yoga instructor taught that if a pose becomes painful, or even too uncomfortable for that morning (or evening, as it may be), we are welcome to sit and breathe. We never need to do anything that doesn’t feel right or that causes too much discomfort. In fact, we don’t have to do anything because we’ve shown up.
There is always a modified version of a pose in yoga, and there is always the breath.
I recall one evening class that was a real push to get to for whatever reason, but it was during the school year, which meant if it was anywhere between October and January or March and June, I was some level of crazy on any given day. But this was my favorite yogi, and I was going to that class. I showed up on my mat, I found my breath, and somewhere along exhale five or six, the tears started, and they didn’t stop for a while. So I sat on my mat, with my eyes closed, and I breathed in and out and let the tears flow instead of stopping them so I could keep up with the everyone else. I really had shown up for myself.
“Yoga is not about self-improvement, but self-acceptance.” Those words provided the welcoming sense of belonging I sought. Those words would continue to welcome me over the course of three years. Classes weren’t always taught by my favorite person, but I learned to appreciate what each yogi had to teach me. (Sounds like another lesson from yoga to write about.)
I always felt welcome, and I always felt I belonged, regardless of how long it had been, whether I had showered or not, whether I was hungover or not, or whether I had hurt somebody—or myself—somehow the night before.
All I had to do was show up on my mat.**
Show up for myself. And breathe. And so it is with you. Namaste🙏☮️
I love this!
I recently discovered the perfect yoga studio for me. The website let me know what kind of place it was and told me all about the owner. She wants to teach the people who think they are too fat, too old, too stiff, or whatever else for yoga. It's perfect for me. And she had a beginner class starting up within a few days! Don't you love it when things just come together like that?