As it were, I just didn't have time. I know that's a crappy excuse, but it's true. And it became somewhat of a theme - had been becoming a theme for some time - until I decided that something had to be done about it, because I was falling apart trying to do it all, to be it all. Either I could pound away at the ad factory all day and try to feed my growing addiction in the wee hours of the mornings and evenings or I could leave it all behind in favor of time, time to play on my mat and write and meditate and practice my Italian, maybe teach myself how to play the cello. And maybe build a little business sharing my yoga with the world.
Needless to say, I chose door number two, so here we are. I am a brand new soul today; today is graduation, and I am so thankful to be here. I am certain that I was always going to find my way here. Even two years ago when I was sobbing on the kitchen floor at 2am, on night 9,827 (or so it seemed) of 14-hour days, begging my husband or myself or whoever was listening to save me, find me a new career, help me claw my way out of the darkness; even when it was so unthinkable that things could ever get better. Even then, I was always going to get here. Which is such a relief.
I am so incredibly grateful to my amazing husband for supporting me (both emotionally and financially) in pursuing my journey. He jumped in feet first, never even blinked. And has continued to not blink through every panic attack I've had since then, from telling my boss to officially putting in my resignation to hiring my replacement and so on and so forth. Thank you so much for not blinking, my darling. You are my lighthouse.
I am also really grateful to my lovely soon-to-be-former co-workers, who are some of the smartest people I know and were so super cool when I told them my plan. Pretty sure they saw it coming a mile away, but still, I appreciate the lack of freak-out and the lack of lecture and the lack of anything but support, even as I told them I was jumping ship. You guys have been my family this past year and a half. If it weren't for this turning of the heart, I would never be leaving you, and I want for you to do so, so well. You deserve it so much. Cuties.
At the end of every class, I repeat this mantra -
we give thanks to ALL of our teachers
and ask that they ALWAYS keep teaching us.
- something I learned from my mentor and she learned from hers. The first time I heard this, I actually laughed out loud - is this chick seriously asking us to thank her publicly for this class? But as the sun salutations began to permeate and my raging cynicism began to soften, I've noticed how the word 'teacher' has begun to expand.
She wasn't referring to herself, the person directing the class, telling you to breathe. She was talking about your family and friends and coworkers and clients and the person who accidentally stepped on you in the subway and the guy who is screaming at the bagel counter and the dog who hasn't had enough to eat and the child who is wailing and the leaves that are growing and the trees and the bugs and the dirt and the air and every single precious instant of every single day, telling you to breathe. All teachers. She was mostly talking about you, yourself, the you that is hiding under all the muck, the only teacher of your own truth. That beating heart, those hungry lungs. Telling you to breathe.
Every moment is a perfect time to learn something new. And I ask that you always keep teaching me.
Smell you later, advertising. I am cautiously, anxiously but oh-so-thankfully out.