Life is good today...

My first weekend intensive of Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) has come and gone.

Saturday was an overview of the program. There were over 30 of us in the main yoga room. At our next meeting, there will only be about 18, but for this past weekend, they combined the 500 hour students with us 200 hours. I found this idea completely genius because we got to hear all of the 500 hour's experience with their first YTT.

It took us a couple of hours to go around the room and introduce ourselves, why we were there, what we hoped to gain, our experience, etc. I am one of the younger students in the class. Many of the yogis are coming from a corporate career ; quitting that high-pressure, competitive,  and sometimes harsh world to find something more out of life.

Every single one of the 500 level students spoke quite highly of the program, even those who went through different yoga schools; all used words like transformative and life changing to describe their experiences. The entire process seems completely geared towards looking inward and examining your life through meditation, whether that means sitting and actively meditating, or using it more as a tool in everyday life to be aware and mindful . 

During the first day, I have to admit that I had to force myself to focus. This was such a powerful experience in my life, and all of the people in the room were exuding such compassion and enthusiasm for this brand new journey, but I felt like all I could think was, "my mom is dead, my mom is dead, my mom is dead." It was clearly at the forefront of my thoughts. During a break, I did go ahead and tell our main instructor. I feel like I needed to let it out and tell someone this was my current reality. Sort of an explanation if I seemed somewhere else. He told me that he thought the program was actually really going to help me, and that I would be surprised to learn those who may be going through similar things or who have in the past in our class. Once I got my inner blargh out to someone, my racing mind slowed and I was able to just breathe and listen more attentively. 

One girl said that yoga helped her through the loss of her Father awhile ago. He was in his 50's, too.  I felt like her story existed just for me. I did not speak with her during class, but I definitely plan on it. Hey, we have 6 months.

Everyone had such amazing stories. I know that the word "amazing" is overused, but it's true. Everyone felt so open and compassionate. The room made me happy to finally be starting such a wonderful journey of self-reflection. A retired principal sat next to me on Day 2 and she expressed how great it was that I was beginning this program at a young age; she wished she had found it earlier in life. All of it was optimistic.  

It was the right decision for me. And apparently, it is the right timing, too.

Mostly, our schedules are every other weekend. We have "lecture" for about 4 hours and then from 4:00-6:15 we practice. Of course, it differs each weekend, but this is the general premise. Our first yoga practice was a restorative one. I'm used to that class since I attend it often. Day 2 we had the option of going upstairs for a hot yoga, or staying downstairs for a moderate to intense ashtanga, vinyasa type class. Since I am being open minded and facing fears head on, I went with hot yoga. 

New experiences build character! 

And boy, was our instructor a character. I absolutely love this guy. He is an unsuspecting yogi.  In his 50's or 60's, 6'5, southern accent, and a hell of a sense of humor. I laughed so much in his class. We hugged and kissed our knees and laughed from our belly. I left the class lighter in spirit, but heavy from sweat drenched clothes. Grinning from the inside!!

And that brings me to today--Friday. Wait, I skipped over about 5 days. That's okay. 

It's involved a lot of cleaning, organizing (if anyone remembers, I moved on January 1st with Mirza. More on that later), and self restoration. Most days I would describe as good, but I have my moments of just pure disbelief that my mom is dead. The finality of it all is what gets me most. To think that I am only 25 and I will never speak with my mother again, FOREVER. It just blows my mind sometimes and I can't even wrap my brain around it.  Those moments only last maybe a couple of minutes or so, and I let myself feel it all, but then I come back to my current reality. And I stay positive, but it's a true positivity for life, not a facade or coping mechanism.

Honestly though, although I would have loved any other way for this to happen, I feel like losing my mother is already making me a stronger person. Even in just these short weeks, I feel a shift in my psyche. Scenarios or conversations that I used to imagine before; that I used to worry about what other's would think or say if I did a certain thing--don't seem to  matter anymore. I am mostly on the page of who really gives a shit what anyone will think or say? And actually believing it down into my core!!! It's as if I am solely living my life for me and those I love, and not for society or acquaintances approval.

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More later! I'm off to Key West for the weekend. I'll be searching for my lost shaker of salt....er?
Updates to follow...