Yoga Journal USA – June 2017

48

june 2017

yogajournal.com

WHEN 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 me

and 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 your

back 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

OPEN

TEO DRAKE

GREENFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS

W

STYLIST: JESSICA JEANNE EATON; CLOTHING: MODEL’S OWN