I used to think yoga wasn't for me.
I was about "real fitness" activities.
Until I saw this...
And I was like... wut?
So I gave it a shot. After all, I wanted to be hot and skinny and do cool poses too.
Plus, I already lived in yoga pants so I might as well wear them to actually do yoga-ish things.
I was angry when my body didn't seem to work like the experienced yogis'.
I kept at it, because I really wanted that yoga body. I wanted to be the best yogi in the land.
I WILL BE THE BEST YOGI THAT EVER YOGA'D.
And then something happened. I cried in camel pose.
It was then that I realized the real yoga wasn't on the mat.
It clicked. I got it. A little enlightenment in the suburbs.
Now, every time I step on my mat, it's not about fitness. It's about listening to and respecting my body...
even if I don't nail the final variation of a pose.
It's about getting in touch with those feelers. A balance of effort and surrender. Focusing on the present moment.
Mind, body and spirit: Blown.
Fuckin' yoga, man. All day.