Home

I put in an application last night for a Denver environmental nonprofit. It was horrible. I sat in front the computer for hours, staring at the existing resume that I have and wondered how to tweak it as to make the hiring personnel leap out of their chairs with joy at finding a candidate so perfect for their needs.

Brain dead and tight jawed- having missed yoga class by 13 minutes, I walked out of the office at my friend’s and insisted we watch some trash TV and finish off the chocolate turtles. After a numbing and yummy hour, I had lost interest in attending the next yoga class, complacent to keep my asana on the couch.

Thanks to John’s chiding, I dragged myself off the couch and rolled into my sleeping bag coat and headed out the door on what threatened to be the first snowfall since my move. It was cold, yet it had rained little, and thankfully there seemed to be no ice on the ground. My car was so cold I pretended to smoke each finger into reluctant warmth.

Upon arrival at the studio, I was warmly greeted by the owner/teacher who had me write my name down in the class log. As I started to walk away, I realized that perhaps I had initially signed up under my full name, versus Kory. I turned and gave her my birth name, at which she complemented its beauty and unique spelling. Embarrassed yet pleased, I explained that I loved it as well, and was trying to reclaim it to establish my roots in this new city.

I continued down the hall to the classroom contemplating how raw it felt to be in a new place with nothing but uncertainties lighting my path. As I entered and scanned for a place to lay my mat, there seemed to be only a spot in the front row. Sighing, yet accepting that I would not be able to hide in the back- I rolled out my mat quietly and began to warm up my ankles. Shortly there after Desi, walked in to begin class.

She started with few announcements about upcoming events and then went into a major announcement that the studio had found a new home and would be moving. She shared the experience of putting in an offer, how other more attractive ones had come, and how the owner chose them in the end. She then went on to share how home would be the guiding theme of our class.

As we lifted into Downward Dog and began to move in and out of different asanas, she weaved in and out of metaphors or anecdotes about home. How we can find home in ourselves, in our poses, even amongst discord. She sketched a vision of our bodies in motion without commotion, finding the ability to stay still even as we moved into a difficult pose. I found my leg shaking from exhaustion from which I was gratefully guided to a new position, one in which I found freedom from weakness and grace in strength.

"That's it, Korynne.”

It was the sound of home. The voice of love and acceptance. Family.

Throughout the rest of class, she used my name three or four more times. I tried poses I had never attempted before, and was shocked at my ability. As she continued to weave stories around our arms and legs, tears kept leaping to my eyes as she said the words I needed to hear about home while calling to me by my family name.

One at a time, little by little each worry and doubt about moving was replaced.

“Open the shoulder, bringing space to the heart.” I would find a job.

“Take your hand to the outside of your leg. It’s okay if you need a block, yet try first without one.” Accept help offered from friends.

“Turn the foot out at an angle, that will allow space for you to move.” I would find a place to live.

And then Desi told of a monk that taught her a valuable mantra. He said that as you step forward with one foot, one should say to oneself, “I have arrived.” And then once the other foot has joined it, “I am home.”

My mind quieted. A chord struck in my heart reverberating throughout my soul. It began repeating the mantra. With each breath of movement I repeated this mantra silently to myself, alternating between arriving and home, until they blended into one feeling of peace.

It is more often than not, that just at the point of giving up or giving in, if we just take one more step forward we will receive what is needed.

I have arrived.

I am home.