Coming back to life

Five years have passed since I moved back to North Carolina. 

There is no way to chronicle everything that has occurred since my last post in April 2019.

So I will start where I am. 

Yoga classes end with savasana- literally translated from Sanskrit as "corpse pose." So much of who I thought I was died in the last five years. I initially wanted to say that it was an unhealthy, cancerous part of me that needed to be cut out, but that is not true. 

I was never unhealthy. I was in denial that there was a parasitic vine wrapped around me like Japanese honeysuckle on a tree. Sometimes it appears lovely and fragrant, but all the while it is prevents the absorbtion of nutrients which leads to suffocation and death of the host. I was so tightly wrapped that I forgot what it felt like to be unencumbered. I had carried the weight for so long that I didn't even feel it.

Removal of a parasitic vine and restoring the host to health is difficult. You cut the visible vines off, but it takes time for the tree to feel the sun and ramp up photosynthesis so it can thrive. All the while, the roots of the vine can linger under the surface, reemerging and sending tendrils up the base when you're not paying attention. They, too, can come back to life.

At the end of savasana, you transition to a fetal position- parsva garbhasana. Many of my favorite instructors use this time to remind yogis that the end of each yoga practice is a chance to begin again. It is a figurative coming back to life.

My last blog post had me entering 2019 with the idea of living my best life. I begin 2024 with the continued exploration of what it means to come back to life.