- Alcohol
I began practicing yoga in the basement of a New York City building many years ago in an attempt to stop drinking. Anna was my first instructor. Her classes were conveniently located under the building in which I lived. Anna sang beautiful songs during savasana. I originally found yoga to be a means to stretch; however, yoga kept me out of my head, a huge reprieve at that time. Yoga also seemed to be a moving meditation within which the ability to transcend space and time was available. I soon developed a twice-a-week practice to try to cut back on drinking.
I strayed from my practice when I moved to Los Angeles in 2005. During this time, I was completely lost in addiction; I was morally, spiritually, physically, and emotionally bankrupt. If I unrolled my mat, I felt better about my life; however, this was a rare occurrence.
Years passed in a haze; I was not a participant in my own life. I hardly practiced yoga. I frequently moved cross-country, hoping life would improve with the next location. It never did. Then my father called me one night from Florida; my mother was in the hospital.
My mother was diagnosed with brain cancer, given a 50% chance of living the next two years.
I was soon given an opportunity to disengage from selfish behavior and help care for my mother at the end of her life. This shift was not easy; I white-knuckled my way into a brief period of sobriety and wellness. Soon, I held my mother’s hand as she left the physical world.
What happened next can best be summarized by the following passage from the Dalai Lama’s Little Book of Inner Peace: “When, at some point in our lives, we meet a real tragedy, we can react in one of two ways. Obviously, we can lose hope and let ourselves slip into despair, into alcohol, drugs, and unending sadness. Or else we can wake ourselves up, discover in ourselves an energy that was hidden there, and act with greater clarity and more force.” I examined my life and mortality. Eight months after my mother passed away, I looked into a mirror, hardly recognizing my own face. I had spent years poisoning myself and was now very sick and tired. I posed the following question: “What are you going to contribute to the world with the time you have left on Earth?” In that moment of clarity, I chose to reclaim my life.
My path to wellness began. I found recovery in the meeting rooms of my 12-Step program and obtained the spiritual tools necessary to maintain a life of abundance. I rediscovered my love for yoga and developed a daily practice. My mat became a safe place to address grief, sadness, loss, surrender, and acceptance; my yoga practice taught me courage, strength, and balance. My life changed rather quickly when I combined conscious breath with mindful movement and intelligent action. Lessons learned on my mat were soon applied to all my affairs. The more I gave to my practice, the more my practice gave to me.
I now realized that being of service to my mother before she passed had kept me from addiction and selfishness. This valuable time with her taught me the power of seva, or selfless service. This was a concept I also learned about in my 12-Step program—to help others and to carry a message. Now it was time for me to be of service to others.
I learned to teach yoga in order to bring its healing benefits to those who need it most. A month after completing a teacher training certification program, I began teaching 12-Step yoga therapy classes to men and women in addiction recovery. I taught yoga to homeless men and women at a Skid Row shelter in downtown Los Angeles. Next, I brought holistic yoga classes to gyms and studios across Los Angeles. Private clients soon appeared; I helped them discover their unique paths to wellness through yoga. Just as I had discovered my new purpose, however, I was struck with debilitating pain. My lower back had been hurting during the previous year; however, I thought the pain was muscular and would eventually cease. The pain did not subside; it got worse. Soon, I was unable to teach and practice yoga. I was diagnosed with Degenerative Disc Disease. I tried chiropractic care, exercise, no exercise, acupuncture, anti-inflammatories, massage, anything and everything to manage the pain. A doctor offered drugs; I refused to threaten my sobriety. Only one thing eventually worked: yoga. Consciously strengthening my core muscles with specific yoga poses reduced the pain and eventually reconstructed my body. Again, yoga rescued me.
Yoga saves my life daily on many levels; getting to give that gift to others is an honor and privilege. My recovery program saves my life one day at a time; giving that gift to others helps me keep it.