I fell in love with yoga at a busy time in my life. We lived on a small farm with our young children where we raised fruits, vegetables, and livestock for our own use. We had a small goat herd, milking twice a day by hand to make cheese and yogurt for sale. It took me forty-five minutes to drive to my weekly yoga class.

I practiced a lot on my own.

My yoga practice gave such relief to my tired, hard-used body, but most importantly, I found the practice settled and calmed me. I was an instant convert. As I studied more, learning about the sutras and pranayama, I began to feel a little sorry for myself. I didn’t have enough time! I wanted an hour and a half for asana, forty-five minutes for pranayama, and a half hour for meditation. Every day. I felt thwarted by responsibilities! Honestly, I felt a little righteous too, because all the old teaching stories were about male yogis who simply left their families to pursue their practice. Buddha had a child, but somebody else raised them.

One day as I was practicing (feeling thwarted and frustrated), that quiet voice in my head – the one that yoga strengthens – suddenly asked me how well do you use the time you have? It was a good question. I was moving through the asanas, but my head was full of chatter.

I wasn’t going to find three hours a day for practice, but I could be better about the time I had, incorporating body, mind, and spirit by being deliberate with movement, breathing, and thought. In that moment, I scribbled a sign and stuck it to my wall.

NO CHATTER

That scribbled sign changed my practice and my life. A month or so later, I made a prettier sign and left it up. Like the librarian’s sshhh, it repeatedly caught my attention and reminded me what I was there for. After about a year, I had internalized its message.

A regular asana practice is a conversation between mind and body. Like a dialogue between wise, close friends, it can be new, relevant, and interesting every day. The first stage is to quit chattering and start listening, and especially listen to our frustrations; they are our best teachers.

The next couple blogs will be dedicated to practical considerations for beginning and maintaining a meaningful home practice.  You can do a lot even if you don’t have much time.