when unexpected beauty surprises you

​Last weekend, I slept in a room full of strangers.  I spent two nights in a hostel in a cozy house that reminded me of New England, the kind of house I still find charming.  Tall and narrow with little rooms and wood floors.
 
I attended my first weekend of yoga teacher training, and I was nervous and exhilarated.  I didn’t know anyone, and prior to starting I’d hoped to lose more weight and be in better shape.  By the time I arrived at the hostel and checked in, I was so excited to be alone in a quaint, charming town alone that I forgot to feel disappointed about anything at all.
 
After I made my bed because I knew I’d be back late, and I chatted with another guest, a guy with big brown eyes who looked impossibly young and thick haired who said he could eight run miles in near zero- degree weather.  Then I walked around town with my plum colored yoga mat slung over my shoulder before I went to the yoga studio.   I walked by a hippie store that sold rocks, and there was a big homemade sign in the window that said seekers of the truth were welcomed.
 
Somehow, I felt like that little sign was something I was meant to see.  I walked by it several times throughout the weekend.
 
Once I arrived at the yoga studio, I was relieved that my classmates were warm and friendly, and of all shapes, sizes and ages.  The yoga instructor reminded me of a brunette version of Sarah Jessica Parker except prettier and with muscles.
 
I have so much to learn, and my first weekend of an eight-month program is just the beginning of I don’t know what.  I need to learn bones and muscles.  I need to learn about the art of inner listening, the Sanskrit names for poses, and how to make the palms of my hands stronger. I can already feel myself changing.  I can already feel my own hand reaching towards my own heart. 
 
As I walked around on my breaks from class, I remembered how essential it is to me to have time and space to meander and think.  I haven’t given that to myself in a long, long time.  I remembered how you can walk around the corner of a sidewalk and be completely caught off guard by something beautiful.  On a cool, overcast morning, I was startled by a perfect crow standing in the middle of a sidewalk, and I gave it the food I had in my hands.
 
I have so much to learn about what yoga is.  I have so much to learn about who I am.  One question I have written in the front of my yoga notebook is “How do I love and give attention to what I’m avoiding?”  I don’t know yet, but I look forward to finding out.  May we all learn to break away from being comfortable.  May we all learn to love what we’re avoiding.