from the Journal Pages of Active Yoga
Teaching yoga in a windowless loft bright with fluorescent lightI glance up as I assist her into camel pose, shins and knees pressing into her arched backHands stretching open her shoulders, as a shadow crosses the room.A cloud passing over the sun and I instinctively look up to the skyBut I’m surrounded by walls and no sky and the shadow is a mystery.
Days afterward shopping for groceries, she’s there.
Tells me of her rage, how she destroyed her bedroom after yoga class.
Tells me of her addiction, her therapy, her bulemia.
She’s afraid of the yoga, afraid of what it brought up.
I tell her to keep it moving.
So many years later she’s a shiny, happy mother and wife.
Healed like a warrior.
She did the work and cleared the darkness in the arms of an army of supporters.
Supported or set up?
I feel the shins and knees in my own back, friends whispering into my ear, things that will hurt me.
Things I will have to clear.
Knee or is that a knife?
Face and heart thrown up to the light I’m
Sandbagged by shadows that slip through my porous, not holy heart
and drop to a rootless floor.
Until I recover.
Until I dispel the cloud.
Teaching yoga in a windowless studio last week and
A shadow flits through the room.
I recognize it.
Who’s in trouble here?
Is it me?
No, I don’t think so
And I’m vigilant to protect the group.
Still, the shadow world is not all bad as it offers fertile ground for progress.
It’s there one identifies the monster in the night.
Shake out the people, the memories, scenarios that drown out the light.
Make peace with the land and keep growing.