Sweat pours in rivers down my face,
blinding my eyes from the image reflecting back to me through the
candle-lit mirror. My fellow students surrounding me flow from one
intricately designed pose to another, sinking deeper into their inner
beauty with each new twist of the body. I chant my mantra inside my
head, blinding the pain with the mission of that days output. With
each move I grow, expand and fill the empty holes within and without
of myself. Sweat is the truth. Sweat is what I now yearn to see
gliding down my body. Sweat is my enlightenment shining forth from my
body.
Once upon a time I hated to sweat. What
young female doesn't hate to sweat profusely in public? The first
fews days of hot yoga I was ashamed of my sweat, of the rivets of
water rolling down my body, soaking my clothing. Now sweat is
benevolent. Watching myself and my fellow students sweating in each
pose is satisfying. There is glory in that sweat. I earned that
sweat. We earned that sweat stain.
I have just begun this journey of
learning the depth and vitality engrained in the practice of yoga. I
struggle with each 90 minute class. My practice's intention always
begins with, “I will make it through this class” then followed by
1-2 simple words that define my mantra for those 90 minutes of
spiritual and physical blended healing. Sometimes it is as simple as,
“love” or “release” or “flow”, other times it is to
simply smile and enjoy the moments I am hating the most. But at the
end of every class no matter if I have cried that day, smiled and
laughed, or just barely made it through I know I will be coming back
for more.
This onset of a path I have just only
begun is strewn with rewards and beauty along the way. I am content
to walk this path and patiently find where it will take me, with
sweat as my gliding compass.
