Six years ago today I opened Main Street Yoga. I have been thinking all day about the wild, circuitous, error-ridden path that led me here. I really want to tell the story of how all this came to be: how I came to be a teacher of yoga, how I came to be the way I am.
But it’s a long story. It goes back to the nuns in Catholic school who planted the concept in my head that everyone has a “vocation” or a “calling.”
(So I think I’ll make this a multi-part entry and see if I can chunk out the whole mess.)
I was always looking for it, listening for it, even hoping, as a little girl, that god knew my phone number and would call me. (“Hey god, my number is Tremont 4-7734.”)
After I gave up the idea that it would be a literal “call” I kept waiting for some grown-up, some teacher, to call me out, to tell me, “You are good at this; you should be a ____.” I kept waiting for the revelatory dream, the message in the fortune cookie, the face in the cloud formation, anything that would confirm a “calling.”
But nothing. Nada.
I wasn’t particularly talented at anything in the way some kids are talented at music, or math, or art or sports.
And this lack of a calling or “firm direction” or whatever you want to call it, continued through high school, into college, grad school, and even motherhood.
So I did what everyone does in my position: I just made the best of it. I did the best I could with what I had. I liked to read, so I read everything. I liked to write, so I wrote in my journal everyday for decades. I had a crappy childhood, so I made sure my kid didn’t. I took up jogging. I built and tended gardens. I ran a Nursery School. I took piano lessons. I practiced yoga. I went on silent Zen retreats. I made a quilt. I became a vegetarian.
But I dreaded it at parties when I was asked, “What do you do?” Because whatever I was doing, was not what I was. What I was, what my life mission was, eluded me. And this really, really, really bugged me.
But at the same time, I came to know what I wasn’t. I wasn’t good at being on the road all the time; I was a home-body. I wasn’t good as a school teacher, though I liked to teach. I was spoiled and liked to call the shots on my own life. I didn’t like to be “bossed.”
I was certainly not content being a piano-playing, gardener, meditator, quilter, vegetarian, runner. My life wasn’t coming together and time was running out.
(to be continued…)
3 thoughts on “The Story of Main Street Yoga”
Why, I disagree (with due respect).
Gosh, don’t be so hard on yourself.
Look on the positive side: you have played so many different roles and served different functions. And you have contributed to society in your own way. And that’s special about you.
And you know what? I think you are a generalist, and that makes you versatile. And it adds to your options in life and makes life more worthwhile.
And thanks for sharing your personal story. Some people find it boring, but I find it exciting. I think people should share more about themselves.
Bless your heart for all that you have done and all that you are. And rejoice. Here’s a toast to you!
Happy anniversary! I can’t believe it has been six years since that first class…
Thank you, by the way, for your great advice to “Let India be India.” I repeat it to myself constantly, and it has kept this journey in perspective. I’ll have my blog off the ground over the weekend, and send you the link!
I think about you DAILY! I cannot wait to read your blog! Sounds like you’re diggin’ the ride! whoo-hoo!