I Am My Fortress
By: Caroline Henderson
“I want to become ______ “
How would you fill in the blank? For me, the word better encompasses the essentiality of any word I would place in that blank. I spend so many of my thoughts searching for ways I can become better as a friend, daughter, athlete, student, community member, etc. What is it that I need to add on to be “better”? And will this better be my best? Or is it the better after this better that will be my best? The best?
I wasn’t sure how to answer those questions, but I was sure that I wanted to become better at yoga. So when I found out Shakti Yoga University was happening in Athens, I signed myself up without any hesitation. I spent the weeks leading up to the first day of teacher training preparing to add. I added layers to myself. Layers of words I thought I should speak to be a yoga teacher, layers of forced optimism to cover up hard feelings and questions, layers of holding what I thought was the correct, precise form of every pose, layers of what I thought I needed to be. Layers. layers. layers.
On the morning of January 8, I walked into the Shakti doors around 7:52 am: covered in my thick layers, holding my trowel, eager to add the layers that will make me become a “yogi.” I had trained my being to follow the belief that to add is to become. So, I was ready to add. That first weekend of training my adrenaline and belief were dancing and shouting:
*for fun…read to the tune of Pour Some Sugar on Me*
Add some layers to me
Oooh in the name of love
Add some layers to me
C’mon build me up
Add some layers to me
I want to become
I was feeding my belief that to add is to become, encouraging my belief to dance until the next layer was woven, chasing the goal of adding.
Teacher training continued and it was amazing! I was growing, adding, becoming. And oooooooh was my belief jamming. A shimmying-booty-shaking-breaking-it-down-on-the-dance-floor-type of jamming. Then the music was cut-off. My belief stood frozen under they eyes of inquiry. As inquiry begged for an answer to her question:
“What would be possible if you broke down the layers you have built around yourself? What would you find underneath all that?”
My belief started to shrink. The eyes of inquiry were getting bigger and clearer. She was really seeing my belief as it was. She didn’t feed it or starve it. She didn’t encourage it or discourage it. She just saw it. Soon inquiry went to rest, and my belief was able to do a sly two-step. Phew. I will still keep on adding layers because that is what I know (correction: think) will help me become.
My layers were were built of bricks and often laid heavy with the thoughts of “you can’t ____”, “you’re not ready for ____”, “but you don’t have ____”, and, heaviest of all,
“You are not enough as you are.”
Each time I gave into those thoughts, I added more bricks. The bricks made tall layers. And they seemed sturdy. Eventually, I found myself believing the more bricks I put on, and thus the more layers, the safer I’ll be. But here’s the thing.
The bricks got heavy.
I felt like I was on the verge of collapsing, but I persisted to bear the weight and even add some more layers.
Another inquiry session came. She was wide awake with the challenge to see my belief “to add is to become” and consider what would be possible on the other side of it. What would be possible?
oof.
Inquiry didn’t quite go to sleep this time. She kept thinking of the possibilities and what would open up if I stepped to the other side of the belief. “To breakdown is to become”.
Double oof.
Overtime, I had built up a fortress around myself. Yet, here inquiry was… challenging me to look at my fortress. To really look at it. To see it just as it is and as it is not. Slowly, I started to really see, and I sure didn’t see layers that added. I saw layers that lied. I saw stories that glued those lies together. I saw the fortress as untrustworthy. I saw.
Inquiry told me to leave my trowel at the door. She then handed me the most powerful tool: herself.
Through the work of inquiry, I began to dismantle the many layers of bricks I was carrying. This demolition produced a whole lot of rubble. It was confusing, messy, and totally clashing with the song of my belief. Everything I thought I should be was being taken apart and tossed away. But with each brick I dismantled, I felt lighter. Not always instantly, but overtime. My belief started to learn a new tune:
*read/sing/twirl/shout to the tune of Dancing Queen*
You can live
You can shine
Being who you are at your core
Oooh, you are here
Here you are
You can begin again
I kept on dancing and dismantling. I did this until it was just me. No more layers stood surrounding me. Nothing keeping me guarded. But now what is my fortress?
me.
I am my fortress. Here. now. Exactly as I am.
I have everything I need right here, right now. I don’t need any bricks — not a single one. And what’s really amazing is that I’ve always had me.
Atha Yoga Nusasanam. Yoga beings now. This is the first sutra of yoga, and the only sutra that you really need because when you recognize that yoga beings NOW, in this exact moment, then everything else will fall into place. Inquiry has taught me that I have everything I need right here, right now to begin again. And again. And again. So now, when I start to feel myself making up stories to glue some bricks together, I declare: I am here, here I am, I can begin again, and again, and again.
This truth, that yoga and living begin right here, right now, is my new song because of teacher training. As we are nearing our final weekend of training, I have been devoting time to reflect on the experience. I came into training so guarded with layers of what I thought I should be, and I’ve spent all of training discovering these layers were lies. Lies that were keeping me from my own power. The power I only have when I am me. The me at my core. It took a lot of work to dismantle the many bricks I had layered around me. It was messy and hard. I am still in the work. It still gets messy and hard. I will always be in the work. It will sometimes get messy and hard. Yet, through the mess, I have learned to love who I am at my core because being me is being of power. Being of my power generates an indescribable joy. A joy I never thought I wold have access to. A joy that keeps me committed to doing the work. Joy.
We have studied the Baptiste Methodology, Yamas and Niyamas, anatomy, poses, and more. We have practiced being yoga. A practice that involves a lot of begin again. A practice that is so much bigger than the physical shape of a yoga pose. A practice that requires us to be in the work — always. It’s this practice of being yoga that has lead me to my core. It’s a practice that started because of the support of Ruby, Emily, Maggie, and my fellow teacher trainees. It’s a practice that gives me new eyes to really see. It’s a practice.
I no longer want to become better. I want to become me. The me without any layers.
I am here, here I am, I can begin again, and again, and again.
And so can you.