“I was outside looking at all the trees on the mountains and the blue in the sky and realized I was home. Now I know why man has lived so long on earth. I know why we haven’t all wished accidents or caused accidents upon ourselves just to get to heaven faster. The cities, and even the suburbs, are cold and impersonal. Here it is warm and welcoming, and you know why everyone here can survive even with so little, how they can be so full of hope, because they’ve seen a piece of heaven. If god couldn’t give them money he could give them hope and love and beauty. Because that’s really what counts, not the money and power but love and faith.” – Journal entry, June 2002
There are times when I’m not really sure how I travelled down this path called life and ended up a yoga teacher. Then I read my old journals. Amidst all the millions of crushes I developed, there are real gems, describing the life I wanted to lead, the life I dreamt for myself. I may not have been able to predict exactly what I would become, but I knew what I wanted her to be like.
I have been journaling for more than half my life. There are entries that don’t sound remotely like something I wrote. I don’t remember the strokes of the pen and the words sound foreign and wrong. There are other entries I know so well I can almost recite them from memory. In the spirit of “getting personal” (one of my goals) I thought I’d share some of my entries as time goes on.
The entry above was written on a mission trip to Appalachia. I went every year for 5 or 6 years, and each time it was the best part of my summer. I cannot truly express what those trips meant to me, other than they changed my life forever.