The Wandering Yogini

Life’s journeys can be like grapevines, twisting around each other, some ending, while others can seemingly twist into eternity. This metaphor is true for my many journeys, so much so, that sometimes I find it difficult to differentiate between them. Which came first? Which am I on? Which have ended? These many journeys are so closely intertwined, they compose one solid branch that is the core of my existence. So, as we’ve all question; what came first the chicken or the egg, I too question what came first the yoga or the travel?



For majority of the time I am convinced that the travel came first; but then again, I think back to my childhood and vaguely remember singing to the trees—if this isn’t a form of yoga, I just don’t know what is. My first “real” yoga class took place in Maui; but I remember sitting in prayer in my hotel room in Costa Rica before that, and before that I recall falling into meditation in the temples outside of Tokyo. These are all forms of yoga, which are so deeply intertwined with my love of travel, almost as if the two go hand in hand. I can’t fly without practicing pranayama breathing, or practicing an asana at the back of the plane. And even when I have absolutely no intention of practicing my practice seems to find me (see image attached to blog post: http://freeyogini.blogspot.com/2008/04/bend-it-through-bikram.html) as during a hike in the south of France I found my “OM”.

It’s the most powerful moment when that realization hits you that this practice is one of the core threads in your life. It changes you…it’s changed me. Which is why I’ve become the wandering yogini.