More Than A Token: A True Yogi

My first experience with yoga, in high school, I got hurt. Which is kind of ironic, because when I started becoming serious about yoga, a year or so after my sister and I went to a yoga session together and several months after I did yoga near the SUB where I met one of my future besties at, I have not only used it to strengthen my body (I've had, except for last year because of the ice and because of my injury-laden sports, very few injuries the years that I've done yoga), but also my mind and my soul. I've appreciated it as a social experience, but also as a way to look at form and getting feedback from instructors that have been doing it for longer than I have. I am an unofficial T.A. for a class and enjoy it. I love the being mindful that comes with the journey. Having autism and loving yoga has helped me relax and as someone with autism, I have no sensitivity to pain, and yoga has helped with that tremendously. I love to work on poses with yoga and can do a 20-minute session in the park by myself with what I've learned. But yoga has much more than Vitamin N or a peaceful surrounding or restructuring my body for me. It's also a way of relaxation and of learning myself on the journey. I appreciate the genuineness of the instructors and I've been shown plenty of ways to work on form and have fun and use it as stress relief. It is something that I can use as a vehicle to teach people about autism and besides Jenna, I have met a few other people in yoga classes that have become like family to me, instructors and participants both. After one of my yoga classes in the park last year, one of the instructors talked to me, gave me an unexpected hug, and said, "you're a great yogi. thanks for taking me on this journey." while it's an unexpected journey and one that a few years ago I'd never thought I'd do, it's been an impressive one. And I couldn't be happier for it, either. Stay tuned for the next two chapters: The Final More Than A Token Piece Called The Two-Time Campus Awards Winner and A Piece Called 29: The Self-Discovery Year