the underground, london

Freedom in the Form of a 

Chipotle Burrito

It was my first day of YTT back in 2020.

Something I had been wanting to do for years, but finally the stars aligned for me to be standing at the right time and in the right place to embark (the right place being The Yoga Underground – where else?).

Internally, I was a swirling mixture of excited, proud, anticipatory, and uncertain of my own ability or “right” to be there.

To be clear – I am not the yogi that can stand for hours on her head or contort her body into seamless binds. I was just a normal, somewhat-regularly-practicing yogi. My life up to that point had been an (unwanted! uninvited! unintentional!) lesson in fearing and resenting my body. It was a constant lesson thrust upon me socially, culturally, politically, in the media, at school, in my church, in my personal life. It was an onslaught. And it left me with an unshakable “truth” – my body, specifically, was disappointing. Not my brain or my heart, but my body. To me, to others. I did not trust in my body, I did not believe in her abilities, I never learned how. I didn’t know how to like her unless I overhauled… everything. Everything that makes her up. My body was just a weird, wiggling, leaking, bruised, freckly, fleshy thing that I was burdened with as a life sentence.

I wanted so, so badly to feel like I belonged to the body I was given but constantly felt so far away from her, disembodied, finding no pleasure nor pride in her as she existed naturally.

I began practicing yoga in my personal life initially as a way to exercise that didn’t involve running (I will always hate running). Although it took me a long time to move away from that mindset totally, the spiritual and mental benefits of yoga quickly found me and co-existed alongside my fitness goals of yoga for several years.

This was the mindset, my preconceived notions of yoga and also of myself, as I began my YTT journey six years ago.

As I sat on my mat on day one, waiting and vibrating in my anticipation to begin, that’s when Britt walked in. And with her, a large burrito from Chipotle that she began munching on immediately upon sitting herself down at the front of the room.

I had probably eaten, what, an apple that day?

Body-shamed-and-forever-ED-adjacent me was properly stunned. Mental jaw to the floor. Here was someone – a yogic leader, a personal role model in my life (though I was yet to know her as well as I do now xx), someone I wanted to be like, look like, act like, move like… unabashedly participating in the act of … eating. Eating big! Eating intentionally! Eating for taste! Eating for power! Eating for energy! Eating for joy!

And, to be honest, probably doing all of that totally unthinkingly, as she likely was just eating because it was dinnertime and it was time to eat.

Something I hadn’t allowed myself to do for… so long. Not really, not fully. I sat there in silent shock and overwhelming sadness, trying to recall the last time I had eaten a burrito. I didn’t know.

This was six years ago, almost to the day. A whole lifetime of things have happened to me, to the world, since then, and I once again find myself at a beginning of a YTT journey (with TYU because, again, where else?). This time around, however, it is with the greatest delight and excitement to embark on that journey remotely (I’ve missed TYU since I moved across the pond). I have a guidebook and a colorful pen and a hope – a hope that this remote re-training will deepen my understanding and strengthen my connection to yoga as a practice, both personally and as an instructor. What lessons am I needing to find me this time round? How can I better convey these lessons as a yogic teacher, and also as a friend, sister, lover? I’m feeling all sorts of reflective of the person I was at the beginning of her YTT journey to the person I am now beginning again, all the ways in which they are different and all the ways in which they overlap. There are many!

And, as I’m sitting in all these incredibly poignant feels, the very first section of my new YTT guidebook reminds me (reminds all of us?) –

• Yoga teachers eat whatever they want!
• Yoga teachers listen to their body in regards to their own hunger cues; they trust their intuition in all things, not just on the mat!
• Yoga teachers look like regular humans!
• Yoga teachers let go of imagined beauty standards – standards that are forced upon everyone but also, in this specific context, a very certain standard or ideal around how a yoga teacher “should” look!
• Yoga teachers promote acceptance of all bodies in classes and your own body is included in that!

I’m viscerally reminded of that younger version of me, six years ago, floored by a burrito and the subsequent freedom she found in it. I have so much compassion for her. I’m not going to pretend that YTT or yoga in general cured all those harmful tendencies or painful mental blocks for me – it’s a Sisyphian battle, fighting lots of forces louder, more persistent, and often more powerful than just little old me.

But it’s helped.

And one thing I can say, honestly and with my full chest – I eat burritos now. (!!)

I also have lovingly, tenderly, gently, moved yoga away from the place fitness sits in my brain into something – else. Something equally softer and more powerful. Something more mental, more spiritual, more emotional. Something more understanding. It’s something that’s for me, for my spirit, for my brain. It’s for the sort of soul I wish to be in this world, the space I want to take up. It’s how I view and relate to others with empathy, the care and compassion I want to radiate towards all life. It’s shifted. “Fitness” isn’t even a part of it.

And something really amazing has happened?
The further I’ve moved away from focusing on fitness or how I am looking or obsessing about my body… the closer I feel to her. Yoga is something that roots me to my body but, at the same time, gets me outside of it.

Practicing yoga, for me, has been a practice in embodiment – a firm and determined and brave and intentional stepping back into a body, reclaiming her and my relationship to her, nurturing her, loving her. I am no longer focused on a particular aesthetic of the body, and in that, I can better inhabit her. Really feel her. When not focused on the outside, I can internally scan, find comfort where it blooms, poke at what doesn’t feel right (for real, not merely what other people have told me is wrong). I can make adjustments, I can correct, I can sit in peace and presence. I am rooted to her, this silly, incredible body of mine. She’s my own! The only one I’ve got.

And to be honest? She’s pretty amazing. I still can’t stand on my head or do (very many) binds (although I can say I have since conquered a few). But I have found I’m really good at balancing. I’m good at showing up. I’m good at matching my movement to my breath. My shoulders in downward dog or my thighs in warrior two or my feet in tree pose can hold my weight confidently, powerfully; as unshakably as my previous conviction that my body would never do anything for me.

My feet have carried me so far, my eyes (with the cute assistance of contacts and / or glasses) have seen so many amazing things. My hands write and write and my arms hug and hug. My belly is prone to deep, barking, shaking laughter. My very human appetites demand and are met. These are deep blessings.

My freckles that formed under the sun’s merciless kisses are constellations now tattooed across my shoulders. My stretchmarks are eroded rivers of my thighs and remind me of my growth, connecting me to the patterns and movement of the very Earth. The lines crinkling my eyes denote how quick I am to smile, to laugh, to ease the pain of others, to love. My gap in my teeth, my uncontrollable curls, my hairy legs, my sports bra that holds my chest exactly as I prefer her, all scream out that I will not allow powerful, preying men and their conglomerates to dictate what can be and is considered beautiful. These are blessings, too.

Now, I want to be like, look like, act like, move like me.

To celebrate this milestone, this new beginning, I order myself a Chipotle burrito and tuck in. Let’s begin again!