It is hard to believe that it has been ten years since I taught my first yoga class on September 20, 2001. It was such a tumultuous year. Between July and December, I experienced one stressful event after another. First, I had to put my 17-year-old cat to sleep. Then, my Mom discovered she had breast cancer, and together we battled through surgery and recovery. Just a month later, my Dad was hospitalized (the first of many times) to treat complications from alcoholism. And of course, our country was reeling from the attacks of 9/11.
Through the confusion, I somehow accidentally took over a yoga class that I had been attending as a student. I didn’t have a lick of training, but they needed a replacement teacher, and so began my new career. I shudder to think how I giggled my way through that first class, both excited and terrified. Within a week, however, I was given three classes per week. With reminders of death and illness all around me, I was quite aware that life is short and precious. So within three months of teaching, I quit my corporate job and began teaching full-time. At the time, I didn’t really know what I was doing nor why. But I now see that my calling found me. And out of the onslaught of pain, this lovely jewel–a new career in the healing arts–was my saving grace. Perhaps I would never have re-invented myself if not for the challenges that knocked me back, one after the other.
I tell you this story because I am reminded that we must experience pain and suffering in order to learn, grow, and rise from the ashes. I tell you this story to remind you that, when times are the darkest, you never know what bright opportunity is waiting just around the corner. And I tell you this story to let you know that I am deeply indebted to each of you for having shared some part of this journey with me. I have learned so much more from all of you than you have ever learned from me. I humbly thank you.
