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june 2017yogajournal.comWHEN I WAS FIVE YEARS OLD, I told my
grandfather—an Italian machinist—
that when I grew up, I wanted to be a
jockey. In my little-kid logic, I knew you
had to be a boy in order to be a jockey.
My grandfather was a wiseass and told
me to sleep curled up in a little ball,
because in order to be a jockey, I
couldn’t get any bigger. So I did just that:
Each night, I fell asleep curled up in the
tiniest position that I could muster, until
my mom caught me one night and told
me not to believe a word my Grandpa
said. I think about this now and realize
that even back then, I was trying to heal
a profound disconnect with my body.
I was raised a girl, but I always knew
something about that wasn’t true. For
35 years, I was at war with my body. In
fact, I spent my adolescence and young
adulthood trying to die in all kinds of
active and passive ways—from drinking
to drag racing to being actively suicidal.When you’re battling your own body,
everything becomes a desperate attempt
to not feel, to flee, to ultimately not
exist. So it’s no wonder that when HIV
crossed my path, I had no ability or will
to think about long-term consequences;
the choices I made simply got me
through my day. At the age of 28,
I tested positive.
It took the threat of dying young
from AIDS for me to find the courage
to transition from female to male.
When nothing was more frightening
than dying, I could risk everything to
live authentically. And at age 4o, five
years after starting transition, I found
my way to a yoga mat.
Living the way I had been was pretty
much the opposite of being embodied,
so the idea of doing yoga and being
more physically present in my body
was like being asked to move into a war
zone. My childhood home had been full
of violence, chaos, and addiction. My
physical self never felt like a safe place.
Why would I ever seek out a practice
that was inviting me to come “home”
to my body?
And yet there I was, flopping around
in flannel pajama pants in my living
room, trying to follow along to a yoga
DVD. It was a disaster. Soon after, I
found a studio and a kind, accepting
teacher who talked about her own limi-
tations and who created space for meand my fellow practitioners to talk
about our bodies and where we strug-
gled. She talked about ways of navigat-
ing it all from a matter-of-fact place,
rather than treating our bodily limita-
tions as something to overcome. And I
learned that yoga is a ritualized process
of allowing yourself, in good time and
with intention, to show up. As I learned
in 1 2-step recovery programs, “It’s sim-
ple, but not easy.” And I believe this is
true when it comes to yoga.
To this day, every time I step onto
my mat, I’m terrified I’m going to let
the practice down. I’m afraid I won’t be
able to show up. Despite all of this, I’ve
developed an ability to trust the practice
outside of my ability to understand it.
And I try to show up, despite my fears.
Yoga helps me breathe deeply,
where I couldn’t before. It allows me
to move my body with an open heart.
I probably don’t look very graceful
when I practice, and if you had told me
as a child or young adult—when I was
so actively at war with myself and living
in a culture that was at war with me—
that I would someday feel at home in
my own skin, I wouldn’t have believed
you. But I can tell you now; there is
something about the magnitude of
grace that happens when my body, soul,
and breath are aligned. That is what
yoga offers me: an inexplicable gift and
invitation to experience that grace.As teacher Joan Halifax has said, “In Buddhism, it takes a
strong back and a soft front to have an open heart.” This
guided meditation is designed to help you feel that something
has your back, so you can open your heart.
Find a comfortable position where your back is fully sup-
ported. Try lying down completely or with your feet up a wall,
or sitting in a chair or on the ground with your back against
the wall.» Once you have found your place, pay attention
to your breath. » Notice your body: Where is there spacious-
ness? Where is there tension? Move your attention to yourback and its contact with the chair, wall, or floor. Allow your-
self to feel supported.» Holding this support in your body’s
awareness, turn your breath and attention toward your heart
space. Is there fear? Is there hope? Is there a bit of both? Just
notice.» Once again, release into the support against your
back as deeply as you are able. As you do, is there room to
relax and soften your heart space? And to create more space
on the exhale? Explore without judgment.» When you are
ready, begin to expand your attention to the room around
you. Allow yourself time to gently transition into the space.HOW
TO
REMAIN
OPENTEO DRAKE
GREENFIELD, MASSACHUSETTSW
STYLIST: JESSICA JEANNE EATON; CLOTHING: MODEL’S OWN