This is a guest post and poem written by Angela Hoffman, a member of The Practice. Let her journey inspire your own, and her wisdom give you strength. XOXO, Molly

I joined Molly’s Practice in May. I had done yoga for many years before but with the pandemic it became an almost daily practice, a ritual I could count on when there seemed to be little else I could count on in this crazy year. At first I focused on how it was helping alleviate the aches and pains in my body, especially my lower back, and helping with my flexibility, but as time went on, I sensed it was offering something more.

If I would skip a morning, I seemed off the rest of the day, as if something was missing. It grounded me, brought me to my body and sometimes to emotional issues that needed acknowledgement or releasing.

The things that I was doing on the mat were things I needed to do off the mat:

honor myself,

breathe deeply,

open my heart,

observe,

witness,

let go,

allow,

show up,

balance,

be brave,

let the divine in me see the divine in you,

be still,

stand tall and strong,

notice the pause,

trust myself,

empty myself and be filled again,

get curious,

ask the questions. 

I had begun writing around this same time. I started writing a poem a day in April. Molly gradually incorporated writing in her practice as well and it was her encouragement that kept me going. At first I wrote the poems just to anchor my thoughts, to remember the wise words I heard or read from those with more wisdom than myself, or to release what I was feeling. I wrote about the pandemic and politics, prayer and spirituality, relationships, things that gave me a sense of awe, my yoga practice, becoming more myself in this world, my vulnerabilities, and even my creative endeavors of trying to write poetry and create artwork. I shared my poems with no one.

Molly urged that we are vessels and what we create often needs to be shared with a waiting world.

As our small writing group of strangers shared pieces they had written with each other, I noticed  we were really connected by our humanness and all our heartaches and joys. So often their words would soothe my soul. They would say the words I didn’t know how to say myself. But to think my words were worthy of being heard was a far stretch for me, as I had done no writing before. I thought my poems were too simpleminded as they did not sound like the poems of others had poured over. But, there was an ache to connect with others, to be heard, to give voice to myself. 

Courage over comfort is a mantra I have learned on the mat as well.

I could no longer give lip service to my truths I hold. Sometimes self-improvement for your own sake falls flat and so my confidence in sharing my poetry grew. 

I have been on a spiritual quest for years, probably since my childhood when I craved silence inside old appliance boxes, or on the grassy hill by my home. I have been searching for meaning, for purpose, for joy, for unity with God, for self-acceptance far too long. I am now just realizing I have to stop the search! 

Molly has helped me to realize they are not things to be found but are all things to be made out of the daily things that show up. I need to make meaning, I need to make purpose, I need to make relationships, I need to make self-acceptance, day in and day out. God is not out there waiting for me to find him. He has been with me all along.  It really is about showing up with my heart open and doing that to which I am drawn, to watch for the gentle signs, but to go boldly and do the next one thing. 

The Practice
by Angela Hoffman

I feel as though I am glimmering a new truth

It is not about reaching some goal

Attaining some union

Feeling some ecstasy

Finding some purpose

It lies in the practice

That thing we have to do over and over

With seemingly nothing to show for it

It is in the again and again

The letting go

The returning to 

The showing up

Getting back on the path

I want instead the wings of a dove

To fly away, to finally arrive

But it seems I have to stay put and persevere

In the horror, in the fear, in the not-enoughness, or whatever

That is where the Spirit rests

In the wonder and awe

In making meaning

In the letting go and letting be

In the silence in the suffering 

It is all in the practice  

Until there is a tipping point

When the pull from the depths now is so strong

That you no longer want the wings to arrive-

somewhere, someplace

The practice becomes the arrival

The witnessing