Ran across a post at The Elephant Journal by Samantha King on the art of domestic yoga.
House-holding,whether you are the breadwinner or chief cook and bottle washer, is the flip side of the navel gazing aesthetic side of yoga that most people believe yoga to be. Yoga is not a one or other thing, however, regardless of a person's calling.
King attempts to explain what yoga was to her premarriage and motherhood and what it is now - lofty and kind of out of reach for mere mortals, in my opinion.
Yoga wasn't even on my horizon until I moved to Canada. I was 44 when I started my practice and the goal was simply to realign shoulders and neck, and to relieve knee pain caused by decades of running, and if my practice had never strayed beyond these tight confines, I wouldn't be any worse for it.
There are still things I roll my eyes at and I am not convinced that the way of the yoga is the be-all/end-all for everyone. There is zen and oneness in many other physical pursuits. Running, I always found, can attune a person to her self just as well as Primary Series.
The point, however, is that the stories we use to avoid starting or keeping up with a practice are just stories. Yoga, like everything, will have its ebb and flow.
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