This week per instagram, I’ve displayed some love for yoga. I have yet to really share this side of me, for whatever reason I don’t really know (well I think I do). But I think it is pertinent in sharing, as people are probably like “why is this girl saying she loves to do yoga, but never talks about it,” like it’s some sort of murder mystery.

So we can call this a yoga testimony or perhaps insight to yoga in general. I am in no way, shape, or form a yoga guru or pro. I forgot 50% of the yamas and the niyamas and always mix up the chakras. Shesaidwhatnow. BUT I do know one thing is for sure, the world needs more yoga.

Glimpse into the journey: I decided to try going to yoga once a week for “deeper stretching.” It quickly turned something more, perhaps a tad of an obsession. Before I knew it, I had signed up for yoga teacher training with my SIL, 6 months after starting to practice. I graduated with a 200 hour RYT (registered yoga teacher) certificate back in January 2019 (pregnant with Ceci Junebug). Vinyasa is the style of yoga I was trained in and continue to practice. There is like a lot of different kinds of yoga, which i definitely did not know! We can save that for another bloggggg. 

What is Vinyasa yoga? The easiest way to describe it is, breath to movement. Connecting your inhales and exhales, whilst moving your body in coordination. A dance, workout, breath work, hot/heated,  legit anything that it means to you, and that is why I like it. Everyone shows up on their mat for different reasons. It you and your thing, no competition here, which I was not familiar with, playing competitive soccer into college years. Yoga is what made the process of nearly losing Cecilia, manageable. It helps me cope with day to day anxiety. It makes me less of a B, rare legitimate drama, and better sleep. 

“I tried it and it’s not my thing.” “It’s too hard.” “Sit in a hot room with other smelly people? NOPE.” I can’t help but wonder, where did you try it? Your home? Studio? Who was the teacher? What was the mood? I have to admit, I am spoiled rotten with this little thing called a “community.” It is all about the teachers that teach you and the students that practice next to you. When shit was hitting the fan post Cecilias traumatic birth, there was a meal train set up from my yoga friends. I can step into the room with the biggest sass of the day and hang in child’s pose for 20 minutes, with no judgement. There are studios that ooze bad zen when you walk thru the door. There are teachers that snub you for whatever reason.. they have their crown chakra stuck in their sacral chakra. Community man, community.

It is a challenge to write this blog. I consider myself pretty simplistic with occasional complex feelings and I feel corny and cheesy seeing it pen to paper/computers keys to computer screen. Or quite possibly, its another point of vulnerability to share such a personal journey I have experienced. I also try to keep authenticity in my presentation on social medias and this website, which is silly, light hearted, witty, and full of love in this journey of motherhood. So here it is friends. My yoga practice is me. Whatever I work thru on my mat, I take with me off it in a different light. Seeing life in a different perspective changed myself on a deeper level, you can ask The Husband this one. His testimony of Bec’s yoga journey was along of the lines of “I loved you before yoga teacher training, but you are a completely different person after it.” There ya have it, there is a pre yoga Bec and a post yoga Bec. 

You don’t have to possess all the yogi knowledge to be a yogi. You don’t have to have the loosest hamstrings to bust into full splits. You don’t have to have the most expensive pair of leggings (I’m looking at you lulu) to show up on your mat. Because the truth is, if you are breathing, you are practicing yoga. 

The light and love motto wasn’t something I just googled and it sounded right,

Becca