Category: Bucketlist

It was the winter of 2001 when I saw the ad. The whole country was reeling from the 9/11 attacks. The dust was still settling over the two craters in the earth where the twin towers had been, and the collective heartache was palpable.

I was a travel agent at the time of the attacks and my entire industry felt unsteady. Layoffs were happening around me and travel shops nationwide were silently shuttering their storefronts. I wondered what was next for me if my job, my career, disappeared.

I was looking for something, anything, to soothe the constant anxiety I felt boiling in my stomach. All of the ‘What If…‘ questions racing through my head were keeping me up at night. What if... I lost my job. What if…the travel industry collapsed? What if…I could not continue living in San Francisco? Where would I go, what would I do?

By the time December hit I found that I was depressed, anxious, and feeling completely out of my body. I scribbled out my New Year’s Resolutions to take better care of myself, to find something, anything, that would let me take some of my power back.

I found a tattered paperback copy of Richard Hittleman’s 28 day yoga plan (original publication date 1983) at a thrift store for $2 and dedicated myself to his method. The black and white photos of the nearly naked swami led me through asana on my living room floor. At the end of the 28 days I noticed I was feeling a bit better. I reasoned that if at-home yoga was good, surely in-studio yoga would be better. As I searched for studios in the Bay Area, the ad popped up: Free Yoga Teacher Training.

The teacher’s name was Tai Sheridan, PhD. Tai was a zen buddhist priest and in response to the 9/11 attacks he was choosing 12 people to take part in his teacher training for absolutely no cost. The training was not about core strength, the depth of your downward dog, or how strong your headstand was. Instead Tai was hoping to spread peace. He reasoned that if he taught teachers how to access loving kindness within themselves, they would go out into the world and teach others how to do the same. He hoped that this would tip the cosmic balance back into a place of love rather than hate.

Impulsively, I applied. There was no logic to this decision. I was a complete novice at yoga. I had never taken a studio class and all of my training had come from a long haired swami in a diaper from a publication nearly twenty years old. I told Tai in my application that while I wanted to join, I worried I wasn’t ready. Would the downward dogs I did while watching Friends be good enough?

I was stunned when I received my acceptance letter. Stunned and a bit panicked. New ‘what if’ questions flooded in. What if…I am not strong enough? What if…I am not ready? As the travel industry continued to crumble around me, I felt that I had no choice. This was going to be my new path.

I faced my fear and each Friday I would drive across the Golden Gate Bridge toward Marin County, the sun and the fog doing battle as the city receded behind me. There was the asana practice in the morning followed by long meditations. In the afternoon we would discuss theory and the practicalities of teaching. And every time we gathered we somehow drifted into long group discussions about the events of 9/11. We cried together as we processed the loss we collectively shared. In this sacred place we healed. I walked away a year later feeling hopeful for my blossoming career as a yoga instructor.

But life had other plans.

I went through a divorce. The travel industry did crumble. I moved out of state. I searched for stability and built an entirely new career, one that paid the bills. Yoga, as much as it had been the thing that healed me all those years ago, became the hobby I did only occasionally as the years slipped by.

It has been 22 years since that yoga teacher training, and oh how life has continued to change, shift, ebb, flow, and delight. That great destabilizing time in my life pushed me out the other side better for it. I discovered love again, married a wonderful man, went back to school, and found a calling that helped others. It wasn’t yoga, but I was spreading peace in my own small way.

Yoga still calls to me. Perhaps that is why, on an impulse not unlike the one twenty years ago, I applied for another yoga teacher training. And just like last time I am pushing myself into uncomfortable territory. The fears are almost identical to how I felt twenty years ago. Am I ready physically? Am I ready emotionally? My last training was gentle and healing, but this practice promises to be intense and invigorating. At nearly 44 years old, I wonder: Am I too old to be doing this? Will I be the oldest there? Will my body withstand the month of daily asana? Will my mind be patient enough for the half hour daily meditations? I am nowhere near getting into a headstand, is that a problem?

I let the thoughts wash over me and take a deep belly breath. As I slow my racing thoughts, a new, surprising ‘what if’ question presents itself.

What if…I can absolutely do it, and be better off for it?

In that moment of clarity I feel something shift. I am going, age be damned, ability be damned. If I have learned anything in life it is the power of feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Middle age can feel ominous. I try to remind myself of who I am: a bad-ass Gen-Xer who does not have to let herself be defined by age. In that ageless space I take this moment and say Fuck It.

Here we go.

I leave for Spain in less than a week to complete my training. I plan to keep weekly updates on my Journey to 200 Hours. I hope you join me.

xo