As is true for many, my religious path was carved out in the first decade or so of my life by my parents. When I was about 15 years old I began to see that not only could I walk my own path, but that to walk a true path, it must be one of my own creation.
I found myself going to synagogue every Saturday morning as I had been for years and suddenly not feeling connected to the prayers we were singing. I left my confirmation class because I did not feel it was fair to those who were finding truth in that path for me to continue along beside them acting as if it was the path that made sense to me as well.
Walking away from that felt mostly okay to me, though there were times through the years where I found myself longing for something. I think it was mostly connection, community, ritual, and a sense of sacred space.
When I began practicing yoga regularly I found my way towards what I had been searching for. The yoga studio where I was practicing at the time felt deeply sacred to me because of the love and compassion with which the community was grown. The time there was for me and for no one else, and that felt sacred, especially with a young child.
I am not sure if I knew at the time how much this path would become part of my spiritual practice. I do know that I began to find my way back inside, back towards my own sacred home.
Years later and I have spent time and energy to walk deeper on that path. There have been tears and laughter and so much growth. I can feel although my teacher training has just ended, that this is a sweet beginning. I am beginning to recognize the elements that fill my soul and that call me to further exploration. I am following my intuition still as I have come to see that it is leading me on a beautiful journey.