It's impossible for me to classify what happened Friday as anything but a miracle. 

I taught a Kundalini yoga class at the Burbank YMCA. I was subbing for my teacher, Tanya Greve, who was my first (and, for a long while, only) yoga instructor at that same facility 8 years ago.  

I can honestly say that I never imagined such a day was possible. Back when I first began practicing with Tanya I was hanging on by a thread. A kind friend who belonged to the Y took me with her just so I wouldn't be alone for a spell -- or maybe it was to keep an eye on me. Regardless of the motive, she picked me up and I went.

I was so broken, I didn't know where I was, nor did I care. I had never heard of "Kundalini yoga" and had no idea that's what we were doing. My central nervous system was so traumatized, I trembled and fidgeted incessantly 24 hours a day. I had trouble focusing on anything but my oppressive anxiety and grief. I couldn't sleep and I rarely ate. I spent the majority of my day sobbing. I could barely sit upright, much less arch my spine or hold my arms above my head. I was a complete and total mess. Tanya welcomed me without saying a word. 

I went back.

I often spent lengthy portions of class curled up under a blanket, too weak to participate. I remember needing the full 90 minutes of instruction before I could draw one real breath. The mantras might have turned me off -- but for once in my life I was in too much pain to have an opinion. Instead of chanting, I just listened. Every so often, during meditation or savasana, I would experience a moment of...I don't even know what to call it. I can't really describe it as relief, but it wasn't worse than how I already felt (nothing could be) and that was enough.

I kept going back.   

I kept going back. 

Tanya is the reason I felt like I could "do" yoga. She was the ambassador of the Golden Chain of teachers who "held the space" for me each time I brought my anguish and despair to the mat. She is the person who encouraged me to become a teacher.  

Given these sad beginnings, the fact that I subbed for Tanya on Friday was a miracle if ever there was one. Miracles do not only come in the form of burning bushes, or water turned into wine, or dramatic ascensions into the heavens. Those are simple stories told over centuries -- but they fail to communicate something more complex and personal about the phenomenon of transformation. Miracles germinate in the commitment shown day after day, hour by hour, to show up and be the student or the teacher, to receive the breath that is taken so for granted, to make room for  inconvenient and unpleasant needs. As Guru Singh points out, it isn't attractive -- but through great courage and given the opportunity, a blessing may evolve. 

And, so, as I faced a room full of Tanya's students, holding the space and guiding them through the yoga and meditation I struggled through many times before, I felt in my heart that an eight-year metamorphosis was complete.  

Thank you, Tanya.