By Courtney Marden
I stood there staring at a blank wall, the scent of lavender filling my nose, trying to find my “drishti.” I was attempting eagle pose for the first time, and it wasn’t going well. When I was in eighth grade, my 500-hour-trained yoga teacher mom led a teen yoga class in our town. I felt obligated to go, so each week I dragged my friends along, and we laughed as we attempted the weird sounding poses, and we barely listened to her inspirational messages, checking our watches instead to see if it was time to leave. Back then, I laughed at people who preached about mindfulness or who emphasized the importance of self-care. I didn’t think there was anything I needed to do to “improve” myself. Once I started high school, I thought I was doing everything right; I was on the cross country team, I had a large group of friends, and I felt like I fit in with my peers.
I was so consumed with what I was supposed to do that I never slowed down enough to figure out what I wanted to do. My brother has played soccer his whole life, and everyone knows that about him; it defines him. My sister played volleyball throughout high school and was also known for designing and sewing her own clothes. I, on the other hand, followed the crowd without trying to find my own niche. After pushing myself too hard in cross country, it became a chore, and all I wanted to do was quit. Eventually, I listened to my gut and did just that. But to me it was so much more than quitting, which has such a negative connotation - for the first time, I decided to do what I wanted to do instead of what I thought was expected of me. I could not force myself to love something that was not on my horizon.
Stopping cross country after the fall of my sophomore year allowed me to slow down and to breathe for what felt like the first time in my life. I started to focus on what, and who made me truly happy. I found friends with whom I could be myself. I wasn’t keeping up a persona, and I could share the fact that I went to therapy and loved bubble baths. The need to be a “normal” teenager disappeared.
The truth is, I had a flame inside of me that had just not been lit. I found my passion. I started to read “self-help” books, and I subscribed to Eckhart Tolle’s teachings, focusing on staying in the present. I listened to podcasts instead of the Top 40 hits playlist, and I spent weekends at retreats instead of parties. I found other authors and teachers who taught me about connection, and I started going to yoga in earnest, which of course thrilled my mom. In yoga, I started to pay attention to what I was feeling, which is something so basic yet so foreign. Through yoga, I found my sport, my hobby, and my passion, and by focusing on mindfulness, I found peace.
Mindfulness has helped me to stay present, and yoga has allowed me to love myself and to accept the monkeys jumping around in my brain. Actually, I now appreciate my monkeys; they teach me something new each day about how my brain works. I’ve learned that all I need is a quick up-dog and some deep exhales to cure a frustrating brain fog. I am able to quiet my scattered mind and be attentive. I learned, through yoga, not to take myself too seriously. When my sweaty palms slip off my mat and I tumble from a pose, I’ve learned to laugh at myself. I know when it’s time to take a step back, to be content with where I am and what I am capable of completing. I also know when to push myself and persevere through the burn of a pose. Through balancing in yoga, I’ve constructed balance in my life. I can sit for the sake of sitting, and I can allow myself to live in the moment, not regretting the past or worrying about the future.
