This week marks the one year anniversary of my commitment to yoga. Except when I’m out of town, I have attended three to five yoga classes every week. When kids are sick, when we’re over-scheduled, when I have a to-do list too long, when I have a pressing writing deadline–I still drop everything and go to yoga.
Because of yoga, I’m not in pain. I’ve had minimal coccyx issues over the past year. The meniscal tear in my right knee, which used to make it nearly impossible for me to climb stairs and for which I was on the verge of having surgery– has vanished. Aside from one cold, I have not gotten sick in the past year. I have had far fewer problems with hay fever. My insomnia has lessened by about 50%.
Because of yoga, I can do things now I was never able to do. I can lay flat on my back on a carpeted floor without any discomfort (and even sleep there comfortably for the night, when we’ve got loads of family visiting). I can sit on hardwood floors. I can squat for several minutes while playing with my 3-year old. I feel younger, stronger, more confident.
Because of yoga, I have more energy and focus to write. I’ve written a few essays, finished a book proposal, and written an entire novel. I’ve blogged more consistently. My commitment to yoga has made me more committed to writing.
Because of yoga, I have been a more patient mother, a more flexible wife, a better friend. I hope I continue to practice yoga for the rest of my life.