The Walk

While walking the dog in the pouring rain this morning, I managed to briefly catch my reflection in a puddle just before I stepped off the curb. What appeared to be a shallow collection of rain turned out to be a little deeper than expected. For the remainder of my walk, each step I took was accompanied by an audible squishing sound.

When I got home and dried out, I began to think about the countless times I had stepped off the very same curb. Not only was it the way that I went to elementary school every day, but it was also my escape route out of isolation during the time in my life when I was so heavily medicated my planned outing for the day was a walk to Starbucks. Sounds so simple, but it was an event. For approximately thirty minutes I felt independent and normal. Most of the time, within moments of entering the store, the barista would be filling in the boxes with my detailed request before I had a chance to say hello. Great customer service, yes, but to me it meant that I still existed. Everyone knew me as Jen. No medical history was required in order to purchase a tall, nonfat, extra hot, no foam latte.

Each day my ritual was the same... As I took the first sips of my latte, I savoured the feeling of warmth flowing down my throat. My body waited in anticipation of relief from the vice-like grip that the pain had on me. Muscle spasms would normally only allow me to take short, shallow breaths but gradually as I continued to drink, the heat slowly permeating my muscles, I could breathe a little deeper. But since it wasn’t possible to continuously indulge in lattes, I wondered how I could replicate this amazing sensation. I would find my answer in a yoga studio years later.

I initially thought yoga was just going to make me more flexible, but the yoga studio has now become another sanctuary for my mind and body. The same emotions that flowed through me each time I opened the door to Starbucks, I now feel the moment I walk into practice. Yogis use the word ‘sangha,’ which means community. Being a part of a community can be a powerful healing tool. For me, in trying to cope with my pain, I had put myself into exile. Old friendships had fallen to the wayside. It was easier to stop making social plans than to have to cancel at the last minute because I wasn’t feeling well.

The first time I heard a room full of yogis chanting ‘Om’..... I had a visceral reaction. It was the welcome home that my soul yearned for—the sound, the vibration, the feeling of truly being part of a community. Everyone with their own story, but at that moment ‘om’ connected us all.

With each deep inhale my chest expanded and with each exhale my body softened. As the muscles of my chest and ribcage let go my heart and mind melted and the slow cascade of relaxation flowed out to my fingertips and toes. Ahhhh…. Nothing else mattered. It was just my breath and me.  

I began writing tonight as I sat in Starbucks—latte in my left hand and a pen in my right. Past, present and future all represented. The past—the latte… each time I drank in the warmth, albeit brief, I was reminded that relaxation was possible. The present—my breath…with each inhale and exhale accepting what is. The future—my pen…the vehicle to touch people with my story. As I sit in my mini oasis and watch the rain fall, I am grateful. Gratitude for puddles because I love the reflection I saw in one this morning. I’m glad I know her.