Why I Cry During Yoga (Every Time)

“Are you a yogi?” my instructor asked upon introduction. I laughed inside myself, as it’s a type of question that I’ve been asked before. I have never considered myself a yogi, but rather answered with, “It’s [yoga] always been around.” However reluctant I have been to call myself a yogi, I have joined a studio in town and have reflected on my reluctance to embrace the practice of yoga fully.

Ever since I was introduced to yoga, I liked it immediately. The action of synchronizing my breath to the flow of movements meant for my physical and psychological well-being appealed to me. However, I have a tendency within myself to resist many things that are embraced by the larger populous (think things like: Harry Potter, all professional sports, and cruises). Since yoga has seemingly increased in popularity in the US, I actively resisted embracing a regular practice or joining a studio. I practice sporadically at home, encourage my clients suffering from trauma to embrace yoga as a part of their recovery, and have plenty of friends who both teach and practice yoga.

As I meditated on the history of yoga, I realized part of my resistance to westernized yoga. The meaning of the word yoga means “union.” This makes sense to me given the following explanation by Patanjali:  “yoga is the neutralization of ego-directed feelings, because once these become stilled, the yogi realizes that he is, and that he has always been, one with the Infinite – that his awareness of this reality was limited only by his infatuation with limitation.”

As I participate in this ancient practice, my intuition was guiding me to this wonderful concept of union. During my practice, I become aware of the limitations in my mind, my body, and in my emotions. I also simultaneously realized that I am part of All That Is. During my first candlelight practice, I found tears streaming down my face. How my body and soul longed for a union I couldn’t put into words, yet has always been at my disposal.

Another word that comes to mind often during my practice is prayer. I see my practice as a form of prayer: for myself, for my body, for my day, for my clients, for my life. As I learn to open myself, physically and psychologically, to the union that creates wholeness, I can be free. I listen to the nagging signals in my body that are praying for union. I now embrace the practice of yoga, and I embrace all the tears I cry during savasana.

If you are a reluctant yogi like I am, give it a try. You might just cry during every class, and enjoy every minute of it.