From a very young age, I have been an incredibly introspective person. I have always taken pleasure in watching the paths my mind wanders down with a sort of passive curiosity. Needless to say, this means that, even as a young girl, I spent - what is to most - an unusual amount of time in my head. I have always, however, also been a very friendly soul. I suppose it's some odd combination of the two that so often created a sense of unease in my peers, as I was told frequently in my adolescence that I was "weird" and that I was "too nice." I was often bewildered and baffled at my own inability to fit in, and this sense of otherness has led me down many strange and beatiful paths in my lifetime.
Born with both a gypsy soul and an extreme sense of responsibility, I did what many priviledged American youths do, and I went straight to college after graduating high school. I studied for passion, spending the next 4.5 years reading, writing, living, and breathing English Literature and Philosophy. It was easy for my to lose myself in the books, in my own writing, in my own head; and, indeed, I have spent and still spend much of my time lost in my own thoughts. I suppose my tendency to gravitate towards all things introspective in nature is what brought me to yoga. As I opened my body through the physical postures, I found parts of my mind opening, as well, and the clarity they brought was addicting.
Let me back up for a moment, now, and tell you that the me who's sitting here, typing out her thoughts for you to freely peruse isn't the me that left for college. The me that left for college was guarded, private, and, though she had the very best intentions for herself and those around her, she did not yet fully understand her place in the world. Back then, I very rarely opened up to people, if I opened up to them at all. I am an intensely loyal friend and lover, and I found that, oftentimes, my intensity intimidated people into backing away. I had learned to keep my bizarre thoughts to myself, for fear of rejection; and, as events in my life played out the way they did, I closed myself off more and more, allowing those around me to confide in me, but seldom did I seek the confidence of even my closest friends. I do have to admit, however, that even if I had sought council, I'm not sure I would have known where to begin, as I also have a tendency to feel my emotions without understanding fully what they are or where they come from. The teenage into young adult years of my life were very confusing times.
Practicing yoga gave me clarity. The physical postures gave me insight into my own internal struggles. As I forced myself into poses my body wasn't quite ready for, I began to notice the ways I often forced myself into situations I wasn't emotionally or psychologically prepared for. As I began to embrace and accept my own physical edge, I became aware of my own emotional boundaries. As I began taking care of my body, I began to nurture my own mental space with the love and dedication I had always done my best to give to others.
(Now I'm not saying I've always been a wonderful, perfect friend and human - Lord knows I've had my dark times when I completely shut everybody out - but I would like to think that I have done my best to make up for those times when I was utterly selfish. I have certainly done my best to make up for the times when I didn't treat myself very well.)
And through all of this, I have emerged as someone who wants more than anything to find a means of holding on to happiness and to help others do the same.
I wrote just a few months ago that I felt like everything I'd worked to build had crumbled down around me. I also wrote that, amidst the destruction, I could see a new dawn. I have long said that everything happens for a reason. I'm starting to believe that, maybe this isn't the case. Maybe, instead, everything that happens is simply loaded with opportunity, and it's up to us to forge new roads. It is the decision to choose perseverance over defeat that creates the illusion of purpose. In truth, we are the ones finding purpose for ourselves.
I never in my life would have imagined myself in the place I am now. I am a college graduate, I live at home, I have two jobs - one of which is a "real person" job, as I like to call it. I have responsibilities to my work, my family, my friends, and myself, and I have - for the present - found a way to balance a number of relationships that, at one time, would have absolutely overwhelmed me. I'm starting to find joy in the "real world" again; and despite my determination to escape into a gypsy lifestyle as soon as I am able, I have found contentment in a manner of living that I never thought would be for me.
So I guess this is growing up. I have watched my own mental transformation - the peaks and valleys, triumphs and tragedies of my life stacking one on top of another, creating a beautifully mesmerizing symphony of highs and lows. And in this chaos, I have found life. In this chaos, I have found the secret to maintaining inner peace: an overwhelming sense of purpose, an attitude of gratitue - that every victory and every struggle is nothing more than an opportunity to select the path I most desire. I have never given up. Through the pain I've expereinced, I have persevered. Through the success, I have done my best to remain humble. Life is not about finding and holding your balance. It's about taking those steps that sometimes make you stumble. It's about shifting your weight on the highline in the changing wind. Life is about the chances we take and the choices we make. Holding onto happiness can be as simple as choosing to smile in rush-hour traffic instead of laying on the horn. And as we practice happiness, as we practice yoga, as we practice anything, we get better at it, it becomes easier, and eventually, it becomes as natural to us as breathing.