It had been a while since I was able to attend a yoga class without being expected to teach. It was even longer from the last time I had the privilege of making it to a heated power vinyasa class – the style of yoga that forced me to love the practice just a few years ago. I was anxious to get to class last week when I finally had enough time to make it to my favorite studio.
To say that the ten minute walk from the train station to the studio was cold would be an understatement. With barely an inch of skin showing I still struggled to walk into the wind, and I wondered when single digit numbers became an acceptable temperature to live in. A few minutes in, I resolved to leave Boston. I have been searching for jobs recently and during that walk, I wondered why I ever considered staying in the Northeast. I was done.
I deserve to live in a place I love year-round. Hell has nicer weather than this.
I struggled up the stairs to the yoga studio and walked into class, with an instructor I was not particularly enthusiastic about. Ninety minutes later I wondered why I hadn’t found time to take a heated class sooner. An honest ninety minutes was all I needed to be reminded of the feeling yoga gives you – the addiction that keeps students around the world practicing day after day. I thanked the teacher profusely for the undeniable energy she shared with me.
I opened the door to leave and the air didn’t hurt my face like it had earlier. Even though it was now dark out, the wind didn’t feel so cold. It almost felt ridiculous to be in the same city center as I had been not two hours before, and to have it look entirely different. I was starry-eyed as I fell in love again with the skyscrapers and lights, the stillness that Government Center had magically gained. It was great for a bit, but then I wondered why, in all seriousness, I wasn’t cold. In a moment I remembered one of my favorite things I learned in a yoga class. The class had made me warm; I was radiating heat from the inside. I had been angry because I couldn’t control the harsh weather around me but I had forgotten that I could choose how I felt inside. The simplest idea but the most difficult to remember.
I won’t be quitting Boston anytime soon. Sometimes I do wonder if its all worth it; the cold, the busyness, the noise of the city…but sometimes I know. It is.