My teacher, my yoga teacher that is, celebrated his 30th birthday yesterday. This morning I arrived for my weekly hour-long session with him.
“I hope you had a great day yesterday” I said, knowing it was his birthday and his day off.
“Every day is a great day” he replied.
He then went on to casually explain that every day he gets to wake up, is a blessing in itself. Or something to that effect.
To go through life, really knowing and feeling that each day is something to be thankful for and to celebrate, must be uplifting and nourishing.
As I mentioned, we have a one-hour session together. Under his guidance last week I progressed into various postures that a few weeks or months ago seemed either way in the distance or forever unachievable. Like this,
We also ventured into fearful territory (for me) as he subtly lead me once again into scorpion pose, or at least preparation to this pose.
I say subtly, because he has this way of just working with you and then moving you into shapes and forms that somehow become accessible, without you even knowing that’s where you’re headed.
But for every four or five classes dominated by the physical practice of yoga, there are those where we easily slip into the more philosophical aspects through conversation. There is much about the practice, much of what he knows and has experienced in his 30 years living his yoga, that I have no concept of. I am grateful he is willing to share some of it with me.
As with each of the teachers I’ve had along the way, I always seem to recall or take with me an imprint, a slice of information. A simple statement that can have a profound or transformative effect on how I might choose to move forward in my life. Or not.
The seed is planted. The choice is mine whether I nourish it and help it to grow. This one, I feel, has dug its roots deeply.
Every day IS a great day. I pause again.