Success looks like 20 yoga classes in 30 days.
It looks like commitment, committing. Finally, bound to an exercise in power and strength – both of character and of community.
Success looks like making time for myself, not as a mom, but as a writer, a yogi, as a part of a team. Success looks like building new teams, making new friends.
Success looks like standing. Balancing. Posing with left leg parallel to the floor and the right arm raised. Defiant. Proud. And it looks like a bent arm chataranga for one full breath.
Sometimes success looks like remembering my mat, or asking for water, or lining stickers up next to my name on the board. It looks like exercise as coping mechanism.
Success looks like compromising the original plan; like stretching my body in uncomfortable ways that do not become comfortable but are refreshing nonetheless.
And it looks like an anti-climactic pride, without the pomp and circumstance of a proper party, but pleasure, stateliness instead.