In my twenties, travelling through Europe with a broken heart but with all my expenses paid.
Having the fruits of my creativity and hard work rewarded with job offers.
Seeing other people, after having ended a long-term relationship and then being in love again.
Purchasing my first car with my own blood, sweat and tears.
The birth of Pippa, the birth of my son and the birth of my youngest.
Watching my daughter twirl around like a little ballerina. Watching my son get dusty, dirty and drenched in sweat while playing football.
Discovering yoga, then practising and learning Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga with some of the most beauty-full people on this earth.
Exchanging a few words with John Scott and listening to his wonderful messages.
I am thankful for these, my happiest memories, which I will cling to and conjure up every time I feel trapped in my current situation. To be asked, even ordered, to stop practising yoga and instead devote more time to my children is not unreasonable. It is but only my responsibility as a mother to raise my kids. So all in good time, as Art says. It's not like the sad, dark and painful period of my life when my first born died or when I got into a highway accident. It is tantamount to taking away a child's favourite toy or telling a teenager to stop listening to rock or whatever music is mainstream or popular. But I am not a child nor teenager and I have to accept life's lessons.
What I do regret is having discovered yoga so late in life. It would have been different for sure had I gone on this journey earlier. But as I have said, my life has been blessed and I am ever grateful for that.
Yoga on and off the mat. Can there ever be one without the other? Long, long, long exhale.
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