Written by Hillary R. Hoff
This is a poem I would like to share. I first wrote this poem for an assignment while finishing my first yoga teacher training in 2013. Before beginning the training, I didn’t resinant with this poem and even now before sharing I had to adjust a few lines because my mindset has changed since then. Hopefully you can identify with your own yoga and begin to come up with your own personal definition as well.
My Yoga is a gentle smile, light through a window, and the smell of a warm meal when you walk through the door. My Yoga is a reminder of home where ever I am.
My Yoga is the salt water air, dancing wild to the best song, and feeling butterflies from love. My Yoga is my happy place.
My Yoga is the soft spoken words from my Dad, a click and connection in my unanswered questions, the easy ace in an exam. My Yoga is my wisdom.
My Yoga is the flight of my wings, the twirling of a child, and the feeling of a hand outside the car window. My Yoga is my freedom.
My Yoga is the push of a life-changing decision, the pull of letting go, and the courage to carry.
My Yoga is my inner strength.
My Yoga is the separation of family, the dispair from a trauma, and the out of control heart drop when someone I love hurting.
My Yoga is pain and suffering.
My Yoga is the soft touch of a loved one, the gaze of a sunset, and the reflection in my own eyes. My Yoga is my heart.
My Yoga is the whisper of the trees, the beginning of a hot bath, and deep breath before bed. My Yoga is my calming place.
My Yoga is the start to a routine, the understanding of a second language, and swing of a golf club. My Yoga is always a practice, never a perfection.
My Yoga is a living room fort, the discovery of my own favourite physical movement, and the beginning of a new art design. My Yoga is my creative imagination.
My Yoga is a screech on a chalk board, a drastic change in anticipated plans, and the loss of a cherished item. At times, My Yoga is my frustration and disappointment.
My Yoga is the tight clasped hand of a partner, a parent to a new born, and an understood yet unspeakable conversation in the eye of another person. My Yoga is my trust.
My Yoga is the stare of a shining star, the hold of my heart when overwhelmed, and the natural gut sound when I sing. My Yoga is my spiritual focus.
My Yoga is not just my sweat, breath, or physical escape any longer.
My Yoga is me.
Address: Parimukti Yoga Center, Kanira Homes,
Girkarwaddo, End of Magic Park Road,