β€œIn ancient Japan, cherry blossoms had been emblematic of new life and new beginnings.” β€” Naoke Abe

Whispers of Heart Openings

sundays with sara Jun 27, 2021

Listen to the whispers of the body, before they become screams.

A student (and friend and colleague) recently reminded me that I offered this quote so many years ago at CBY, and it had me thinking about how much has changed in the last year, the last five years, the last 10 years. I taught my first class at Asana Charlestown this past Tuesday, and while it was tremendously wonderful, fulfilling, and nourishing to both myself and the students, on the walk home I was hit with a rush of mixed emotions — mixed emotions about the CBY community and my new Asana community, whispering at me the onslaught of conflicting feelings held simultaneously.

All these emotions were tugging and pulling at me in a multitude of directions. I’m a Cancer, a Kapha, a serial monogamist… that combination means I tend towards being sentimental, I don’t make decisions lightly especially when those choices affect the lives of others, and when I fall in love (be it with a human, a community, a pet, a practice), it’s in my heart forever and change is only accepted when something that serves my growth outweighs the discomfort of the change itself. It’s why my heart has been utterly decimated more than a handful of times, broken an innumerable amount a times beyond that, and yet I still believe in love, falling in love, falling out of love, and everything in between — knowing my heart will be decimated or broken or hairline-fractured again and again before my final breath.

So it was a strange, and yet not so strange, sensation in my heart teaching to a new group who will become a new committed group of students for me, while also holding in my heart the life and humans of CBY. I taught at numerous places while running CBY, but it was always as a guest instructor — it was never permanent. New students always came to CBY and eventually became part of that committed CBY community, so it wasn’t the new students that inspired this feeling. This was different because it wasn’t CBY and it isn’t temporary. I plan to make a new yoga home in this studio, and despite the excitement and joy of the new, there’s a part of me that is sad over loss of the former. While I’ve always been capable of holding a myriad of conflicting emotions at once, I don’t often care for that discomfort. That’s not the pleasurable discomfort I speak of in classes, during practice. The enjoyment I felt teaching in this new studio sprung a wellspring of nostalgia and heartbreak for CBY. I needed to find the pleasurable discomfort in this cornucopia of emotion.

After I took a step back and told myself to be present in the space of discomfort of teaching and learning to work with a new group of students, I realize that that was myself listening to my cues of days gone bye about listening to the whispers. I literally stopped walking, and as if I was in a cartoon, a light bulb of epiphany lit up above my head. I might’ve even said quietly, “huh.” Then continued my walk home after that first class.

Stepping back and finding presence in the moment, finding comfort amidst the discomfort, was me listening to the whispers. Listening to the whispers before they became screams of self doubts and uncertainty and imposter syndrome, and recognizing that this is part of the process, this is the beauty of being able to be in a new space — not just a new studio but a new space of energy and life, a new page, new chapter, new book. This is part of the process, of listening to the whispers of discomfort of doubt and recognizing all that has come before has led me to this.

The day continued in a slurry of ebbs and flows — relishing in the beautiful experience of connecting with new students, fighting self-doubt, sinking into sadness of missing CBY. Listening to all these whispers before they become some version of me dragging Artax through the swamps of sadness in The Never-ending Story.

That night I cried.

The whispers of the body aren’t always about the hamstrings in forward folds or the shoulders in chaturanga. Our practice can serve as a reflection for our emotions and experiences off the mat. I remember my dear friend Max Strom telling me many years ago that when we feel joy while the heart is also breaking it’s a heart opening, releasing us from some armor we’ve been carrying. When he told me this, our conversation was discussing the first time I was asked on a date and actually wanted to say yes almost a year after my previous relationship had ended, how excited I was about the prospect and then suddenly broke into tears of heartbreak after getting off the phone. I realized I was crying over the acceptance of the former relationship ending due to the excitement at the potential in what could turn into a new one. The walk home after that first class at Asana felt similar in so many regards, and Max’s words returned to me. This week has been another heart opening for me, releasing armor of letting go of the past while still cherishing it for what it was and will always be, and embracing the new in all its potential.

Changes in scenery, internally and externally, can serve our growth even when it isn’t always easy. Loss and destruction of one thing creates space for the new to be sown and eventually flourish.

Here’s what I know… just because something stops doesn’t mean it ends. Just because something changes doesn’t mean it leaves you. Life is full of change, pain, laughter and joy. We continue on the path, we step back and listen to the whispers before they become screams, we have joyfully heart breaking moments to allow the armor to break open.

I invite you to continue on the path this week, wherever it takes you. I invite you to listen for the whispers of the heart in your day to day, in your body on and off the mat, in your life. It’s birthday week for both mom and myself, and we have big plans that involve pie, donuts, and beach time with the wee ones. I continue to fall in love with the city and people around me now, yet the ones I’ve met along the way are still with me — through CBYtv+ or simply in my heart when we’re not together. I hear the whispers of my family calling to spend time with me, I hear the whispers of my scoliosis when I’ve neglected its care, I hear the whispers of my heart when emotions rise. And when those whispers become screams, I want them to be intentional and filled with joy instead of suffering.

With love, always.

-Sara