When I met yoga
It all started for me when I was at the Capio Nightingale Hospital, Marylebone, many years ago now. I was there because of depression. The Black Dog. I’d lost all of me. Empty, fragile and barely keeping my head above water, I crawled through each day, desperate to figure it all out – come up with a solution, a way forward.
Indaba yoga studios was across the street and I signed up. Competitive, driven, determined, I tried every class, squeezed my body into every posture and sweated and sweated. I knew very little about yoga and very little about myself. Unravelled though I was, I was only at the beginning.
I homed in on Jivamukti yoga with Lizzie Reumont. Flowing, deep, dynamic, breathtaking, transforming.
Before then I had worked as a city solicitor, run marathons, pushed myself to the limit. I didn’t know how to breathe. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to slow my thoughts or observe the present. And then I met yoga and things slowly began to change.
I remember (honestly) sitting on my mat and having a strong feeling that this is where I was meant to be.