This Is NOT a Good-bye...

 comic I drew of myself answering a calling from the highest self.

comic I drew of myself answering a calling from the highest self.

As I write this, the dark winter night sky is dawning into a bluish grey. Outside my window, leaf piles are flecked with white from the remaining snow of this week’s weather. Inside my little room, the props from this morning’s practice are neatly stacked next to my green mat and old Bleu dog is loudly snoring from his sheet-covered chair. Nope, that’s a chorus of three boys snoring peacefully in their dreamlands while I sip tea and tap out these words to you, dearest.
 
I live for these moments—early morning practice, time for yoga and writing, a space where I feel completely balanced and completely me.
 
If memory serves me well, there are two things that have journeyed with me through this life: Legs-up Pose and Writing. When I was a kid I literally would watch TV with my legs resting up the TV stand. And when I tired of music videos or Dallas drama, I would retreat to my room where I wrote and illustrated books. Sometimes I would be so immersed in that magical moment of creation I had no clue my stepmom was screaming her head off for me to set the table until my brother would pound on the door nananana-ing that I was in biiiiigggggg trouble.
 
Yoga and writing have been two of my life callings. I earned my MFA in Creative Writing long ago. But I stopped seriously writing regularly years ago. Mostly because of fear, doubt, self-judgment, judgment from others, jealousy—all these reasons that trapped my six-year-old dreamer and maker in a well so deep there was no joy or light in the art any longer. At that point, yoga was around, like someone who shows up at all the same parties, and I turned it then and my life is forever changed.
 
My yoga mat became my safe space of expression, and when I answered the calling to be a yoga teacher, every single yoga lesson became a poem for you. Every sequence a line unfolding layers of poses, of words bringing us closer to each other, closer to our highest selves. The practice of asana, the teaching of asana, to me, is a metaphor for the spiritual work of yoga; my love, I offer the metaphors and it is my deepest hope you find whatever message you need tucked there way beyond your hamstrings in Supta Padangusthasana. My favorite gift of yoga is that it isn’t dyadic or direct; it’s a process of progress, of learning, of unlearning, of trusting to let go, and letting go. What yoga unveils to me is different from what it whispers to you. My only job as a teacher is to turn on the tube and open the channel.
 
As you know, I take my calling to teach yoga seriously. It is my responsibility to talk the talk AND walk the walk. My daily personal practice is Research and Development. In so many ways becoming a teacher has given me the opportunity to be my own best student—something I am deeply grateful for. You know Francois, my teacher, spends much of his year in France or New York, not exactly a mile down the road, so I've had to learn to be a dedicated student on my own and from that dedication is all I share with you. Being a teacher has given me the gift of YOU, love.  Seeing your practice blossom, change, move like Spinal Waves inspires me to be the best teacher and step on my mat every day where I see my own practice grow, change, move. It’s on my mat I hear my callings—what I have to do to live in harmony in this world, this body, this life.

I have been called back to writing, dear one. After a long, painful break from something I am meant to do in this world. After hours on my mat of tantrums, progress, regression, and healing. After ignoring call after call. After receiving countless voicemails through mentors and messy messages from learning experiences. I must answer this call.
 
Wildcard on December 15 will be my last class at Movementality. I am stepping away from teaching weekly at there to spend my mornings, the most creative time of my day, on my mat and with my words. I must start writing again. I have several writing projects—comic poems, a graphic novel, essays on yoga and more—that deserve my full attention and what a perfect time than the new year to begin!
 
My angel, may I please take a moment to remind you, you will be okay.
 
Remember, your practice is yours and yours alone. You have worked hard to develop your daily home practice in addition to classes with me. This time of change and challenge is where you will find your inner yoga teacher and where your practice will flourish. You know how to get on mat and get the job done; you've learned that from years of study in my classes. NOW JUST FUCKING DO IT. And if you need to print that and tape it to your mat so you can hear my voice, then do it.
 
I am going to continue emailing monthly yoga musings with sequence ideas, book recommendationsplaylists, doodles, and more. One of my goals as a writer is to write the yoga experience. We are going to do that together. Right here. That’s pretty awesome.
 
Also, I am available for private sessions. If you want one, please email me. A monthly one-hour session can give you something to chew on for weeks.
 
And there’s the studio. To experience other teachers’ classes is a powerful gift.
 
Sweetpea, I’m not retiring from teaching yoga. I’m not giving up you. I’m just taking time away from teaching weekly group classes at Movementality to honor a calling in my life. We are all going to survive, adapt to changes, and unlock new treasures in our practices and lives. It is my highest intention that we join together in joy, hope, and love, and that we practice our little hearts out the next two weeks together. Let's celebrate us and all the work we've done together! 
 
The morning light is electric now, even as a few snowflakes float down. And I hear the boys stirring. I am so grateful to have spent this morning with you, here on the page. I love you so much. THANK YOU for always supporting me and for putting so much faith and trust in me. It’s because of all I learned from you that I am finally able to find the courage to pick up the pen and write with the joy of my five-year-old self. Namaste.