How do I even begin? It feels like this blog is an introduction, like it is the first blog I have ever written. I guess I need to just… begin. So much has happened in the past two years. I gave birth to my second son. We have been moving all over the galaxy, searching for “home”. I have been mommy - pretty much only mommy, with hints of Angelique tucked in to the crevices. That has been my yoga lately, a rediscovering of Angelique, a reclaiming of her, freeing her, giving her space and allowing her to be. The thing that I observed in my friends becoming parents, the thing I told myself I would never allow, the thing I thought I would be exempt from due to my yoga practice and starting a family a bit later in life than those I witnessed - I lost myself to mommy hood. It was a gradual process. A process of accepting the sense of another’s dependance, of choosing to fulfill their needs and wants over yours, essentially being what you believe to be a good mother. The days, weeks, months pass - breastfeeding your baby, changing diapers, pureeing foods, nap times, play times, walks, figuring out how to discipline, figuring out how to be cooperative with your partner, learning that you and your partner might not actually be on the same page on many issues, maybe not even the in the same book! For me, in the midst of this parenting thing, I found myself behaving in ways completely foreign to who I knew myself to be. I would ask myself “who the hell am I right now?” and struggled to answer that question, devastated by the answers I came up with. I tried to claim certain things that made me feel like myself again: Time spent with my sister - who knows the real you better than your twin sister? Getting back to a deeper commitment to my yoga practice. I looked back at the life I once had, only 4 years ago! - So frickin’ easy! All I had was me. My only obligations were to myself. I had a regular teaching schedule. I had a regular, intense, challenging ashtanga practice. I went to the beach, took naps, went out to dinner with friends. What a life! A life I would never experience again. At one point I accepted that I would never practice third series again. That was a time in my life and it had passed. I even questioned whether or not I was still meant to teach. Maybe it wasn’t a part of what my life was now supposed to be. Maybe it too was a time that had fulfilled itself and has now passed. I wondered if I would ever return to Mysore, India, the home and heart of the practice. The possibility broke my heart. I had been practicing, a bit, but it was more a going thru the motions. It was mostly shallow, distracted, unsatisfying, frustrating. Mommyhood had completely destroyed my ego, my sense of self. Every identifying marker gone. Those things were replaced by the egoic needs of the kids - which led to my personal crisis. I had lost my own sense of self into theirs, their view of me, which was only “mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!” I had to finally get to a place of redefining. This is the moment I think I entered, or rather surrendered to, seventh series Ashtanga yoga. Guruji, Sri K Pattabhi Jois considered Ashtanga to be a householder practice. It was not designed for renunciates or saddhus. It was designed for people living in the world, with worldly obligations, including families. He referred to parenthood as seventh series yoga, following the six series of asana sequences that characterize this practice. I reached out to the community - the specific community of other Ashtanga mommies, particularly those that teach. From the words of this group I was able to give myself permission to take it easy - on myself. I was encouraged to just enjoy this time when the boys are young, to focus on them, as this time passes so quickly and then is gone forever. I was assured that the time to devote to a full teaching schedule will return, when the time is right - as will the time to return to India. I was inspired to just give attention to the practice, to let that feed me, strengthen me, remind me, redefine me. I began to fight for my yoga - again a gradual process. I wanted it to be easy, I wanted to be supported, encouraged, inspired. It was none of that. I struggled to keep choosing my practice over - well, everything else. I still struggle. Through practice, faint fingers of light dawned on my experience, I realized that my ego needed to be reformed. I could be a passive participant, letting my circumstances shape me or I could make decisions about who I wanted to be. I could let go of certain “shoulds” - those expectations, pressures, and judgements that all mothers face, from those around them and themselves. I could trust myself and make choices about the aspects of Angelique I want to express. My sense of self is returning but it is a brand new picture that emerges from the fog. I have recently been regiven the first few third series postures. It surprises me how much the body remembers, how the energy of my body - every molecule, atom, neutron - molds itself into those familiar patterns and shapes. While familiar, it means something new to me this time. It a testament to a deeper strength, to a longer story of my own yoga, than I ever realized, spreading back beyond my pre-child self to a self before even my own birth. It gives new confirmation to the calling that is my yoga practice and my urge to share the method. It is still a gradual process but I accept that, my practice reminds me of that every time I get on my mat. Slowly I see myself again, familiar but different.
