I almost forgot about my anniversary. Twice.
Today is is my ten year anniversary of becoming a yoga teacher. Like any lasting relationship it was hard to nail down the exact day it all began. Was it when we first met? Had our first kiss? First time we…you know. I could base my anniversary on the day I stepped foot into my first yoga class. Or the day I taught my first class as an apprentice (and didn’t damage anyone, double win). Or the day I gradutaed teacher training. But since we’re celebrating teaching I decided the right thing to do was celebrate the day I taught my first paid yoga gig.
Marche 5, 2005.
A decade ago. Seems like an eternity. I feel I should have done something more significant by now, like have bought a yoga clothing franchise store or opened my own yoga studio or have started an animal welfare foundation called ‘Mats for Cats’. Instead I slip into my tin anniversary with far less hoopla. So much so I almost forgot what day it was. Again.
The first time was a couple of weeks ago when someone asked me how long I had been teaching. I thought, “Holy Toledo I’ve been teaching for almost ten years! All be damned.” (Some would say I am simply for practicing satanic yoga rituals.)
The second time I almost forgot was today. On my anniversary.
I suppose when you’re not used to celebrating your victories you forget things. I gather when you are under the weather you focus on getting better. I guess when only the day before you find out your mother’s cancer is terminal your mind is on other things.
So with that said I’m spending what remains of my anniversary alone curled up in my favourite chair thinking about regrets. I have none. Could I have done more with those ten years? Maybe. Could I have done better by my mom? Yes. Was I good daughter to her? I think so, in my own imperfect way. Did I grow up to make her proud? I hope so, but probably not in the traditional married with 2.5 kids and a stable career kind of way she had expected.
Instead I’m respectful, accepting, and forgiving of others. I’m empathetic and loving. There is more love in me that I know what to do with. I only forget it’s there sometimes, like when the auto shop forgets to call me to say my car is ready. Or when I forget to go easy on myself. I carry this over into my teaching. I’m a good teacher. I’m an exceptional teacher. Now to remember that on days when I forget so I can continue to be better.
Thank you mom for sacrificing so much so I could forge my own path. Thank your for helping to mold me into the yogi I am today. What I wouldn’t give for another ten years.
~ K ox