Guest post by Tanya Lippman
Yoga is often sought to heal or improve the body. However, this was not my experience.For me, yoga has filled a void. For me I sought yoga as a place of hospitality. For me yoga was a home I could turn to when there were problems in my own home, or my workplace, or I didn’t wanna meet my mates in the pub. The picture painted by others of their yoga experience is frequently a mentally and physically demanding personal acrobatic performance. To me, yoga is the perfect host.To me, yoga hugs me on my bad days. It hi fives me when I leap (**coughs**, ‘struggle’) out of bed at six in the morning. It brings me hot tea when it’s raining outside. Yoga is patient when I’m fed-up with people’s lack of independent thought and have resorted to ranting at the world. Yoga has an ear when I’m upset because I’ve completely screwed up my life plan… again.
Yoga gives me a place to go when I aint got nowhere.
I am moving to Amsterdam and leaving Marrickville Yoga. I know that when I move from Sydney and am forced to start practicing yoga elsewhere that I will take this home with me. I know that yoga will continue to be there for me. I know that I will continue trudging through the difficult poses and I continue to be light and tall through the poses that come more easily. My yoga is a travelling caravan of magic. My yoga is not a shell that I carry on my back to shield me from the outside world; my yoga is a rainbow of sunshine that beams through my soul.