Coming Home

The yoga is like coming home for me. It's like turning a corner after a long road trip and seeing the place most dear. then walking through open doors into the embrace of long loves.. and some days they're baking chocolate chip cookies and serving cocoa too. but sometimes it's like going home when no one is there. when the place is quiet and empty and not only that, it's dirty and tired. sometimes i can't even find the street the house is on.. i'd like to say i keep searching on those days but i'm likely to either roll up my mat and 'forget it' or stumble through nothing poses as i ponder my toenails and pick at my clothing.
and i'm supposed to teach people?
but maybe that is the lesson. when you first come home after that first semester away at college you are suddenly hit with the knowledge 'i don't live here anymore.' but you don't really live at college either. you are hit with the uprootedness of life. we are always uprooted. and in our society so disconnected from our truly divine nature.
yoga is that chance to plant roots. to try to go home for real. home to the back pocket of the universe where we can cozy up and bathe in the love and warmth that comes with the knowledge that we truly are whole.
these days as i struggle in the first moments of motherhood i remind myself this life is a journey, this home i'm creating for my child is a warm safe holding ground for exploration until we all return to the heart of the divine. and i remind myself i too, am divine. even in my most difficult and challenging moments
I am a Goddess