for at least ten years, my mom has tried to get me to do yoga to help with the alignment problems i've had since birth. precisely because she was telling me to do it, i felt the need to resist. doesn't every child think this way?
when my bff (best food friend) asked me to come to a class with him two springs ago, i said yes, hesitatingly. i was thrown off by the singsong chant at the beginning of class, and the somewhat touchy-feely language employed by the teachers ("from the light within my heart to the light within yours, namaste.")
it's taken me over a year of practice, and experiencing the way that yoga can help heal my bootcamp injuries, to see that my mom was totally right.
and now, i can't stop reading, learning, practicing, chanting (!) and thinking about it. i even bought a scary humongous poster of every pose in my style of yoga and hung it in my bathroom to stare at while i brush my teeth. i eat up the touchy-feely language. i follow yoga tweets. i read wikipedia entries on gurus who lived centuries ago and were the teachers of teachers of teachers of teachers of my teachers. it's getting out of control.
the thing is, physically, i'm not really that good at it. at all. yet i've reached a point where i've realized that that's not what it's about. it's a good place to be.