I had a dream about yoga the other night.
It was one of those “she doesn’t know what to say. But she’s trying.” As I gathered up my belongings, she encouraged me to take some time for myself that day, go get a pedicure or something. With a wry smile, I told her that yoga was my time for myself.
As I took a break, lying in savasana, the instructor said that she’d had a bad day in the hot room recently, and cried throughout the practice, and that’s ok. That did it for me.
I am not sorry about making the various facets of my life revolve around my yoga practice, at least not right now. I need that time to myself. I need the release and break to keep my mind and body healthy and am unapologetic for it.