This morning – for the first time since I began my yoga journey four plus years ago – hubs came to class.  He was (at times!) annoyingly good for his first class.  I think (hope!) he liked it.

After class I settled into my office to plug away at my open ended list of to-dos and pulled up my teacher training ( I have fallen woefully behind the arbitrary schedule I set for myself but ce la vie, right?).  One of the first questions listed to answer was “What do you love about yoga?”

Which strangely, stumped me.

What do I love about yoga?  Besides everything, right?  Because I can’t seem to get around the fact that I love everything about yoga.  I love the breath and I love the sweat.  I love the community.  I love the poses, the challenges.  I love the heat, the thick humidity.  I love how sometimes it’s so hard, my brain empties of everything except that exact moment, that exact pose and the sweat dripping off my nose.  I love the philosophy and the thoughtfulness.  I love the hard questions and the boundaries yoga pushes.  I love all eight of it’s glorious limbs, the yamas and the niyamas and the pranayama.  I love that yoga expects nothing of me in return and yet, it expects everything.  It accepts everything.  I love its deep and rich history. I love it all.

So I guess that’s my answer.  It doesn’t help me come up with my mission statement or whatever its called – my purpose.  But I know in the marrow of my bones that I love yoga indescribably, indiscriminately, wholly and fully.

I hope husby does one day, too.

Xoxo, g