I started yoga about 5 months after my father died. I recently got an email from the studio congratulating me for completing 100 yoga classes.

Getting to this point has been, well, a bit mystical–and very educational.

Following dad’s death after a decade with Alzheimer’s and four months with my mom, I sought to re-enter my life, but nothing felt comfortable. My old routine felt like it belonged to someone else. Someone I wasn’t familiar with anymore.

For a while I thought, “give it time, you’ve been through a lot” or “be patient, it’ll come back to you.” What the “it” was, I wasn’t sure.

Then it began.

The whispering to and from my body.

“Settle in and get reacquainted with yourself.”

The pull to and from my spirit

“Be still. Slow down and just be with yourself.”

Then finally, the acceptance to listen to where my inner golden acorn wanted me to be.

“OK, I’ll give it a try.”

While I’d not had a practice before this, every cell in my being called out for yoga. It was a pretty odd sensation… a gravitation pull…  a force at work at my cellular level.

I questioned it.

Avoided it. Mocked it. Dismissed it.

But in the end, I trusted it.

I found a local studio I could walk to. Signed up for a class. And began my practice.

Throughout my 100 hours, I’ve learned a lot. More than just poses…

• My tongue is a stress barometer. The more force it exerts on the roof of my mouth the more I’m trying to control the situation (needlessly).
• Breathing is magic, and a full body activity. It’s also the only thing that moves my shoulders away from my ears when I’m tense (and when I don’t realize I am).
• The concept of a “practice” gives me permission to wander through my body and see what it’s up for each day with anticipation and enjoy whatever occurs—rather than judge it against myself or others.
• Being upside down can be just the perspective that is needed to recalibrate in world of chaos.
• Balance is not about being still but rather about making micro movements to stay steady.

As I’ve shared with some, starting yoga in my 50’s has been a humorous and humbling experience. But I cannot deny that what guided me there was right. I needed to get to know the new me. As I explored her through a steady yoga practice, I found more patience, acceptance, questions, bravery, tenderness, and peace. She was different… is different… and she’s OK.

More grounded in some ways while untethered in others.

Standing, breathing, stretching, falling, and practicing yoga has helped me realize that while I lost an external drishti of my dad (a focal point to help center you in a position), there are many more inside of me to draw upon in the greatest balancing practice of all – life.

The whisper. The pull. They just called me back to my center. To practice myself more.

“Well, hey there!”