The cars pulled out at quarter past 1 in the afternoon, my head felt heavy and my body drained, but my heart felt full.
“They are gone,” I tell myself. “But, indeed they are still here.”
The Yoga weekend is over, but what is left behind is this incredible feeling of growth: I feel so empowered by having witnessed change in people’s attitudes toward life when they awoke to their Yoga Path.
I am back at home, there is no more cooking pancake breakfast together, no morning Yoga practice in the wooden room facing the green mountains, no more late-night chatters to cuddle me to sleep, but there is so much more: The humble feeling that I was in their place before them and now I am here to serve, just the same way my teachers did, as a vessel to their self discovery.
If someone would have told me five years ago I was going to be a Yoga teacher today, I probably would have laugh with disbelief. But, indeed, it`s all happening and I shall only thank my students from the past, the ones from the present and my teachers for having inspired me to grow inside the Yoga teacher shell and have made it my home.
Teaching, practicing, breathing Yoga daily makes me feel closer to my family back in Italy, closer to my roots and closer to the burning desire I have to help others to lose their masks and start living the truth.
I certainly teach for my students, but I also teach for my own sanity. Walking in the Yoga studio to teach is a “grounding meditation” for me and it brings me peace. The students’ energy, passion, effort and commitment are a weekly compassion booster, as well as a pure adrenaline shot. If I am still around, despite my enormous desire to break through in the journalism world, it’s because of my students’ dedication to wanting to know Thy Self more.
Until this desire lives in them, I shall keep on teaching (and taking pictures when I am not)until death will take me in her hands…