Yoga on Mother's Day...a bath for the soul....

Sometimes the answers come to questions unasked, for fear of the answer.

I attended a special Mother's day yoga class yesterday, and nearly immediately the tears started. I can't say that they were the result of anything more than not being able to physically contain all that was going on inside me.

A mother attended with her disabled son, a beauty of a boy with a great smile who appeared to have no control over his physical body. She lovingly whispered to him as we prepared for class. I was filled with a feeling of gratitude for all my blessings, and wonder at this woman's strength. At one point in the class, we did a community (group) exercise, with a circle of men, women, and children..families, all standing shoulder to shoulder extending our legs together in front and in back, trusting each other to hold us all up. This boy lay in the center of the circle while a group of strangers pushed and pulled for physical balance and I marveled at the beauty of trust.

During I continued to tear up, wiping the tears away, but not attempting to end them.

I was occasionally inspired to (but didn't) bust out laughing.

The lessons I'd learned in an abusive childhood of me being not good enough, broken, somehow poison to those I loved began to seem more and more absurd.

The tears continued to flow. I wouldn't say I was crying so much as I was "dripping." The more I moved, the more the tears flowed.

Then became clear how deliberately and often I sensed greatness and complete love in and for myself, but said "Oh, no, step back. Don't ever let yourself suspect that you or your life could be good, complete, whole, based on love. The higher you let yourself fly, the more you will hurt when you fall. And you will fall. And you will fall hard. Don't fly too high, don't ever fly too high." I've done a lot of work combating these thoughts, and most of the time do pretty well at keeping them at bay. Sometimes, it can be hard to ignore.

Suddenly, and in that moment I was unafraid of my height, of feeling love without the but's, unless's, until's, and if only's tacked on at the end. I could be all those things I'd dreamed, and more.

The tears really began to fall.

I stepped out of class to let the tears flow. I was pretty sure people had noticed the tears, but the rate the tears were falling now would disrupt class.

I know that simply moving through yoga poses can be therapeutic, and there are even people who seem to believe yoga an option to psychotherapy. I know that in either setting, even in life, the real challenge is being open to whatever comes. And I managed to do that in class yesterday, when often in the past, I'd swallowed those tears, perhaps ended up being too busy for yoga for a few weeks.


I found a quiet space, and let the tears continue to fall. When I was composed, I re-entered class.

I felt fabulous, just overwhelmed, filled up and overflowing with the truth of my inherent goodness. Maybe those tears were the lies, secrets, hate, fear, and pain being wrung out of my soul. It sure felt like it.