My yoga practice brings me home to myself.
It brings me home to presence. The practice frees me from whatever self-debilitating storyline is playing in my mind.
Yoga brings me home to love.
Other things that bring me home:
Playing guitar and singing whatever I'm feeling.
Hot baths and Norah Jones' voice.
Relaxing cafes with kind strangers.
Exploring a new city, a new park, a new place, with a friend and wonderful soul.
It is so so easy to stay stuck in old patterns. To believe the stories we’re playing in our minds. It is so hard to remember to do the things that bring you home to yourself, to your breath, to love.
It is called a practice for a reason. So we do just that: we practice. We practice showing up every day.
We learn what brings us home and we do our damn best to make these practices our go-to response to emotional overwhelm, to low-vibrations, so that the practices become habit.
I'm right there with you. I always forget to do the thing that I KNOW will free me to move past old patterns and old stories.
But some days, I remember. And then I'm home.
Eventually the practices that bring me home will be just as much a habit as my old patterns.
For now, it is an intentional practice.
Who knows how long “for now” will last? Perhaps forever. Perhaps not. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we show up and we practice. So that we can remember that those stories playing in our head are not truth. That coming home to ourselves is always a few deep breaths away. Sometimes we will forget. So we will try again tomorrow.
So.. what allows you to come back to right here, right now? What frees you of your self-limiting story and brings you back to love?
What brings you home?
Go do that.