A practice begins.

December 26, 2008, my first daughter was born. Never the one desperate to have a child, I wasn’t a natural at first, by any stretch of the imagination. This is the day my personal practice truly began. A spiritual practice, up to this point, that had been so dear to me.  It had helped me shift some of the debilitating patterns I had been born into. It held me steady as I made my way out of bouts of anxiety and brought me a lifeline as I coped with the devastation over the death of my father.  And it had certainly prepared me for what lay ahead. But before having my 2 daughters, what I thought was a clear steady practice of yoga that I had established both physically and philosophically in my life, had been, for all intents and purposes, solely about me, truly healing but almost entirely narcissistic. Here I was now afraid, responsible, overwhelmed and, from that very first moment, clear. Outside of my husband, there wasn’t any one holding up the mirror, giving instant feedback, letting me know how I was doing - authentically and continuously - day to day, minute by minute. The accountability felt by having one and then 2 little humans to show the way has been my yoga practice and greatest teacher. I wake up every day with the opportunity to follow a course that is true to how I know I want to live and be, mainly to stand in service of others . Many days I fail. I react rather than respond, I ignore rather than engage, I retreat rather than jump in but seeing the instant result of my efforts reflected in the eyes and spirit of these beautiful children encourages me to stay the course, to own my actions, my words, and to be as vulnerable with them as they are with me and to take this outward beyond my insular circle. I have a daily teacher in the accountability of life and love and for that I am truly grateful.