Sometimes it's the full primary series.
My yoga is time spent in the kitchen, slowing down the preparation of meals for my family and myself.
In other seasons or days of my life the practice is a few sun salutations with an inversion thrown in.
It is conversations over tea with friends.
Last week, when I pulled a muscle is my back, it was a new, entirely different focus for a class that opened my mind to hopeful ideas and adventures on my own mat.
My yoga is the writing class I am teaching for my daughter and some of her friends after they have been running around our favorite park.
Today, it was leaving out chatarunga, but busting through the mind block I've had with jump throughs. I had a completely different intention.... and then I had a break through.
This practice of yoga embraces sitting outside with Hubs overlooking the water at our favorite date night spot.
It's the dirt on my hands while I plant my sacred space that is filled with banana trees, coconut palms and plumeria.
It's the juicy indigo tomato I can't wait to harvest from my tiny patio garden.
My yoga is the intention I put into the moments and breaths of everyday.
I am finally comfortable in this flow, in being completely present and full of gratitude while moving through life.
I am finished holding up the ideals of photo shopped Instagram postures. I admire their magnificence, but I will no longer hold myself to a standard that is unattainable... out of reach because I am focusing on more personal, approachable objectives.
Tonight, my yoga will be sitting down to dinner with my kid, sipping a glass of red talking about our day.
This is my yoga.
