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<i>Arches National Park, Utah</i>

Yoga came into my life after coming close to death. In my short life so far, I've often found that some of my most meaningful discoveries emerged out of raw and wild moments that put me to the test physically, mentally, and spiritually.

It was around 3 am. I'll never forget the sounds I heard when I hit the first car. Somehow in my dream state, I wondered if I had been struck by lightning with the intensely dynamic booming and cracking sounds echoing in my ears. My body felt like it was thrown back and forth between two brick walls. My eyes flew open. I was heading straight towards a huge commercial truck parked on the street.

I'm still in awe of the body's primal and archetypal instincts when under immediate danger. In a matter of seconds, my body took over. My hands turned the steering wheel ever so slightly to the left before making impact with the truck. This prevented me from slamming into the truck head-on. After the impact, all I could see was a mix of flashing lights, smoke, and burning red and orange hues. My car was on fire. 

I had fallen asleep driving to work. This was a time when I would stay up until 2 am with a lover, and drive all the way to South San Francisco from Marin County to start my 4 am opening shift at Starbucks. I remembered countless drives falling asleep behind the wheel, yet somehow nothing would happen. Until now.  

Still in a state of shock, I remember my struggle to get out of my car. The door was smashed and wouldn't budge. I used my elbow to break through the already cracked driver's seat window, and rolled out of the car through the window.  

A guy in a bright blue sports car came speeding down the street and screeched to a halt. Rolling down his window, he took in the scene. Before crashing into the truck, I had completely totaled two cars parked on the street. 8 wheels were rolling around in the streets. Alarm sounds were echoing throughout the area. My car was in flames. I was on the ground surrounded by broken glass too speechless to even speak. "Holy fucking shit" came out of his mouth. 

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<i>Puntarenes, Costa Rica</i>

Every time I recall this moment, I feel monumental gratitude for coming out of this accident mostly untouched besides whiplash, a fractured rib, and minor cuts and bruises. Beyond the physical healing was the process of deeply reflecting on the existential nature of this experience. How I could've killed someone. How my survival outcomes could've been very different if I crashed into the huge building a block before that street. I started questioning many things about my life, including my lifestyle choices and what I was putting my energy into.  

I remember taking my first yoga class after friends suggested that it would help my body recover from the accident. I was mortified by how many times the yoga teacher would correct my position throughout the class. I felt like I was going to throw up holding positions like the frog pose, where my hips were opened in a deeply vulnerable way.  None of my years playing competitive soccer and running cross country prepared me for this moment. Yet after an hour of nausea, shaking, and feeling painfully self conscious... she invited us into a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fV7jQV4zTSs">kirtan chant</a>, which took my breath away in ways that I couldn't describe. She told us to thank ourselves for showing up for ourselves, as we are. 

Before I knew it, I found myself sobbing on the mat. There was this radiant, warm energy rippling throughout my chest. This sensation gave birth to a sense of compassion and unspeakable grief for all the ways that my values and needs were not honored as a child. How I internalized this through hedonism, distraction, and substance abuse. The unhealthy search for pleasure and high moments walled me off from my own sensitivity and softness. For the first time, I experienced vulnerability not as a weakness, but as a gateway to connecting with my needs in authentic ways. For the first time, I felt a deep understanding of my pain, and a desire to forgive myself and commit to my well-being. 

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<i>Lands End, San Francisco</i>

I've had a dedicated yoga practice since that moment. For me, yoga is a humbling reminder of the power of slowing things down. Feeling things beyond the surface. Re-sensitizing ourselves to the whole spectrum of our day to day experience. Connecting to my sacred sensual feminine without shame or feeling like I'm a poser or imposter. Words that my dad drilled into me. 

<i>"Yoga is not about touching your toes. It's about what you learn on the way down."</i>

When I went on a yoga retreat in Costa Rica, I remember being instructed to hold the bow pose for what felt like an eternity (for anyone who's held this position for more than 10 seconds, you know). Claire, my teacher, had invited us to play with the tension of the pose, while also noticing our ability to relax and soften. She said, <b>"the closer you get to paradox, the closer you get to your truth."</b>

Much of my healing has been learning how to flow, not resist, the dance of opposing forces within myself. The more I accept myself as I am, including the destructive parts, the more I become the person I want to be. The more I face my grief and pain, the more authentic and real my joy is. How might this relate to the complexity of the global issues we face? I find that much of the division and polarization we see in the world could be healed by having  deeper understanding of the creative tension of paradox. 

<blockquote>“Reclaiming ourselves usually means coming to recognize and accept that we have in us both sides of everything. We are capable of fear and courage, generosity and selfishness, vulnerability and strength. These things do not cancel each other out but offer us a full range of power and response to life. Life is as complex as we are. Sometimes our vulnerability is our strength, our fear develops our courage, and our woundedness is the road to our integrity. It is not an either/or world. It is a real world. In calling ourselves "heads" or "tails," we may never own and spend our human currency, the pure gold of which our coin is made.
<br><br>
But judgment may heal over time. One of the blessings of growing older is the discovery that many of the things I once believed to be my shortcomings have turned out in the long run to be my strengths, and other things of which I was unduly proud have revealed themselves in the end to be among my shortcomings. Things that I have hidden from others for years turn out to be the anchor and enrichment of my middle age. What a blessing it is to outlive your self-judgments and harvest your failures.”
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- Rachel Naomi Remen</blockquote>

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<i>Rogue River Falls, Oregon</i>

And nature. Practicing yoga out in nature is a beautiful thing. Nature doesn’t hide its vulnerable truths and imperfections from the world. It doesn’t play itself with mental games of not enough. It radiates as it is and flows in the direction of what is alive and vital. It endures and perseveres. 

I'm grateful for the turning points in life that remind us of how vulnerable we are <i>and</i> how resilient we are. 

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<i>Redwood Regional Park, Oakland</i>


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<i>Somewhere in Nevada</i>

Here's to what's next!