Wherever I lay my mat…

Paul YoungWherever I lay my hat, that’s my home.

One of my favorite Marvin Gaye tunes (full disclosure: the ’80s Wave girl in me hummed in step with the Paul Young version) popped into my head while running this morning. Came out of nowhere. Didn’t hear it on the radio, or Brit pop cable station Palladia (watched a fabulous Elton John special last night though). But somewhere along the 3 mile path, as I was pulling my hat down further over my frozen ears, it came to me, with a yoga variation:

Wherever I lay my mat, that’s my home.

How appropriate, really. As in less than a month I’ll be packing up and moving. Again. For the fourth (or is it fifth? I stopped counting) time in as many years. This time to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to follow my husband’s dream job at a fast-growing biotech in Cambridge. I’m thrilled. Really. Cambridge and Boston are packed with culture, scenery, Irish drinking songs, water – I’ve missed being near the water since leaving my hometown of Seattle – and yoga studios galore, including the mother ship of Baptiste Power Yoga, the style I practice and teach.

But anyone who’s moved frequently knows the inescapable challenges:

  • Saying goodbye to dear friends – yes we promise to stay in touch, Skype, visit, in my case guest teach. But the reality is that time moves fast, and before I know it I’m shedding tears writing Holiday cards to friends I didn’t get a chance to see and miss dearly.
  • Letting go of crap. Crap I love! The old Sex and the City DVD compilation I know I’ll never watch again; the beat-to-shit Uggs that should have been tossed months ago (and every young hip girl I see seems to have ditched them for Fryes anyway) but are oh-so-comfortable; the kettlebells that haven’t swung off the floor in a very long time.
  • Zombie-walking around town eyes glued to the iPhone GPS. A brief visit to Cambridge confirmed this – what with all the ‘Squares’ and 6+ corner intersections.
  • Explaining to ever-growing incredulous friends and family that yes, we are moving again. And no, my husband is not in the military.

Wherever I lay my mat, that’s my home.

Thank God for yoga. My mat, with every move, has taken me home. Home to new studios that welcome me, new friends that share my passion, new confidence that my body, mind and spirit will make it through the move and land right where I’m supposed to be. HOME.

Cambridge here we come!

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