stretchy stretchy

I love yoga. A lot. I've been practicing it for about a year and a half now as a way to relax and challenge my muscles. I love the principles of it and why we practice it. I love the feeling of inner peace I get whenever I start to focus on my breath and the rest of the world, its stresses and its excessive problems, begins to fade away. Everything else starts to get fuzzy, but the feelings within me come into focus.

A lot of what yoga focuses on is letting go. Letting go of the pain someone inflicts upon you, or letting go of the stress in your life. It's important for me to remember to let go of my responsibilities sometimes in order for me to not be so overwhelmed with life. It gives me a bit of perspective about how life is supposed to be. Sometimes, you just need to remember to breathe.

So that's what I do in yoga. I focus on me. I listen to what my body is telling me, and I surrender to my stretches. My body moves in ways that amaze me, and I am at peace with myself. The chatter in my mind begins to settle, and I begin to have realization of myself. It's beautiful.

And I think, most importantly, it makes me feel a lot better about myself. It reminds me how strong my body is and the wonderful things I can do with it. Practicing yoga reminds me that the lines my body can create are beautiful.

I've come to accept the fact that yoga is not for everyone. Not everyone is comfortable with slowing down so much and simply focusing on one thing. It used to pain me when people couldn't share in my enjoyment of the practice. But I've reached the point where it's almost something I don't want to share. It's become so deeply personal for me that it's hard to share it. It's sort of my form of religion; I find my way to a higher being, place, existence when I practice.

I love Wednesday nights and my gentle yoga class and how I feel when I walk out the door. It makes Hump Day less...well...hump-y.


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