I was flying with my arms flapping up and down. They were tired but I reminded myself that birds don’t get tired of flying.
I was soaring high above my home town. I saw the center of the city with its medieval houses and churches. I saw the road to my parents house. I saw my childhood home and my parents working in their garden.
I flew past them to the mountains just outside of the city. This stretch of forest covered mountains was a place I missed the most, I felt as if it still held a piece of me.
It’s been 10 years since I’ve been back. 10 years since I felt at home, comfortable in knowing that I belong.
My arms kept flapping when I felt warm tears roll down my cheeks, uncontrollably.
But…I wasn’t alone.
This was a yoga class.
The teacher encouraged us to continue moving our arms with the music.
And what music it was. Heavenly doesn’t begin to describe it (“Rakhe Rakhanahar” by Singh Kaur ).
I looked at the teacher, but she was inconspicuously looking somewhere else.
I better close my eyes again, I thought.
The tears kept coming down without a sound.
During this meditation, I was reminded of the years of sadness and longing for my homeland. The years of living as an illegal alien as if I was a less of a human.
Today, I allowed myself to feel, to release, to let go of control and my heart melted.
Now six years later, I am a yoga teacher as well.
Students cry in my classes from time to time and I know exactly how they feel.
I call it the tears of relief. These are tears that carry out the years of struggle and pain from the body.
Crying in a yoga class is one of the most healing experiences.
Don’t feel embarrassed if it ever happens to you.
It’s a form of God’s love. The divine is lovingly taking away the old armor from you because you are about to grow waaay beyond it.
Get ready for transformation.
Author: Zita Harkaran Vasilisinova
Editor: Travis May
Image: Flickr/L. Whittaker