A friend told me a story about Himilayan Sherpas who escorted travelers up to the mountain peaks. They would travel for days and at some point in the journey, the Sherpas would simply stop. They would rest, they wouldn’t move. The travelers, Westerners, would ask them what was wrong, why they weren’t moving and why they were being so lazy. The Sherpas would respond that they had traveled far and had to wait for their souls to catch up to their bodies.
After moving from Lubbock, Texas to Denver, Colorado a few months ago — approximately 562 miles — the beautiful story of the Himilayan Sherpas resonates with me. While traveling, yes, we need to wait for our souls to catch up to us, and moving — its like reinventing yourself altogether. I’ve spent much time in our initial months here in Colorado putting our home together: hanging curtains, hunting for new-to-us furniture, hanging things on the walls, etc. Nesting. Trying to create some familiarity in the unfamiliar. Creating a space in which I can find myself again, and my soul can find me too.
The me I know now is different, ever-evolving. I’ve found that I sleep harder in the Mountain air. I am more rested each day and the drive to do everything all at once, multi-task my life, be “busy” is gone. I don’t feel lazy when I don’t do anything or when I have a day in which I don’t leave my house — I feel content.
Much of the busy-ness left my life when I stopped teaching public and private yoga classes. My last few months of life in Lubbock, I taught 3-5 classes per week. And now, I haven’t taught a yoga class in about 3 months, which is the longest break I have ever taken from teaching. My home practice has been another nice way for me to cultivate good energy for my home, and I’m finally trying to get into the swing of going to public yoga class again. There are days that I am so happy to be on my mat and not teaching. And there are days like today when I go to class – and I just miss being the person leading the journey. I miss the sound of my own playlist, and the words that I use to describe yoga shapes, the silence during Savasana, the vibration I feel from brining the students out of Savasana with the hum of my singing bowl. I miss playing the gong. I really miss playing the gong! And I completely miss being an integral part of a yoga community.
I know that just as my soul will catch up to my body soon, I will find my place within a new-to-me yoga community as well. I will lead the journey again. For now, I’m cultivating contentment and gratitude for these moments of rest and waiting.