Back to the Golden Gate of memories

Ah where have I been? I hear you ask.  Well, last week I left this Emerald Isle to travel to the Golden Gate city -i.e San Francisco.  I used to live there, but haven't been back in 5 years. It was amazing to be back.  I lived there for 4 years, and that was when I was party girl. Drinking, smoking weed, other narcotics too many and too incriminating to name... Basically I was having a  great time.  I was in my early twenties and lived a wild party life. It was a magical time in my life, lots of sunshine, smiles, happy days. But it was also a  dark time in my life, as I was very confused about my future, and actually, very confused about my present.  I was in a relationship that, looking back on it, was quite destructive.  But I was young and in love and believed that love conquered all. That love lasts. But not all love does, or is meant to. Sometimes you just need to learn when to let go. I held on for too long, couldn't accept that we wouldn't be together forever, even though part of me knew that the love was fading.  But I clung on, wouldn't let go.  We had huge fights, crazy fights.  I started to doubt my sanity. I became quite depressed.  Life seemed to be this huge mystery that I couldn't unravel.  Eventually I left to go traveling.  Put my stuff in storage, thinking I'd come back after. I went traveling with the boy, but we just continued fighting our way across Asia.  When we came home to Ireland we were still hanging on, until one night we had a huge fight, and the next morning as he dropped me home,he simply said "We can't do this anymore. We can't go on.". I'll never forget that moment.  I was slightly hungover, slightly numb, so jokingly said "well, I guess we'd better break up then". As soon as I said it, the reality of those words crashed down on me, and I realized that we were breaking up.  I was sobbing getting out of the car, he was crying as well.  I walked up the driveway to my house nearly doubled over with the pain.  I didn't know how I was going to survive the pain.  It was physical.  An inability to breathe.  It was so horrible.  He stayed in Ireland for a  while longer, then he went back to SF.  I knew that my time there was done. It took me a good while longer to get over that pain.  To accept that my best friend was gone from my life.  I felt so alone.  That's when I started practicing yoga.  Some part of me recognized that I needed something to ground me.  To take me out of myself. Make me see that I wasn't alone, that I was connected to something.  Not floating in space by myself. And thats why I practice yoga.  Not to be able to put my legs behind my head, but to keep me connected.  Thats what I hold on to these days.  And it works.  Gradually over the 6 years I've been practicing, my moods have evened out, I've stabilized - although I still have my freak-outs, as my BF will testify.  Bless him.  

So it was funny going back to a city where I associate the 'old' me - the party girl, slightly depressed, confused me.  It was a flood of memories.  Bitter sweet. I used to live up near lower Haight, that was my 'hood. Being around there was strange.  If I could have peeled back the curtain of Time, and told the younger me one thing, it would be 'don't worry. It's going to be ok.  Relax and enjoy.'  When I was living there I used to say that I wished I could skim forward a few chapters in the book of my life.  Just to know that everything would be ok.  I felt that I'd be able to handle the confusion if I just knew that it would all turn out ok. And it is ok.   It's better than ok.  Life has been good to me.  

It was funny going to SF as a yogi.  Instead of going to bed at 6am, I was getting up at 6 to go to practice.  I went to the AYSF which is lovely, if you're in the city I'd definitely recommend checking them out.  Met a girl I had met in Mysore a couple of years ago - I love the small ashtanga world.  I also went to an Anna Forrest workshop and attended a vinyassa class with Rusty Wells.  Both  of them fun and informative, but as always happens when I practice a style other than ashtanga, it re-affirmed my love for our practice.  The sheer simpicity and depth of the practice blows me away.

Other than yoga, my time in SF was spent catching up with friends that still live there, lots of shopping - the weak dollar is very much in our favour, sorry! - eating and drinking.  It's a wonderful city, and there was a part of me that didn't want to leave, but the bigger part of me was ready to come home.  It's where my heart is now.  Where I'm happy.