Here and Now

  Truth is your name, not the letters behind them, nor your diagnoses, those labels of wife, mother, sister, friend... Breathe in your grace and exhale the stories that hold you back Once I knew a quiet and watchful child who held fears hand befriending a belly that fluttered her sweet racing heart a constant companion Insecurity weaved it’s way into every fiber of her tender being;  a sturdy fabric for such a delicate soul to wear This is your time to undress without shame to shrug the heaviness of that old and tattered garment off your weary shoulders Drape yourself in the finest silks and gossamer threads Inhale the heady fragrance of peace as you release the hand of fears icy grip This is your time... Angela Minard 2021© Photography by~ Kristina Makeeva

I’m at the point in my life where I know what I want, I know where I’m going, and I’m also clear about who I don’t want around me. I remember early on in my yoga journey looking up to my teachers, believing their teachings, believing that they practiced what they taught. I learned differently quite soon! With eyes wide opened, I also witnessed the lies..., and like any spiritual journey, if your eyes are truly open, you will see, and then find your own path without blindly following anyone. Lessons have been learned, my heart has been a bit bruised along the way, but those painful truths led me to trust in my own authenticity. I’m certainly not perfect, especially as a yoga teacher, but what you see is what you get. I’m honest. If you have an injury, I will tell you I’m not a doctor, I try to walk the walk, which means I’m prone to anger, miscommunication, poor judgment, etc...I don’t pretend to be anything but who I am. If I like you, you will know, and if I don’t, I won’t pretend...

"Denial is an addiction," she explains, and all that I can do is nod my head up and down. I often do this... a habit I suppose, because the words have to languish, floating like the seeds of dandelions, planting their selves into full thoughts. Her eyes mirror my reflection back at me, the light behind her glowing like a halo, and I want it to not be the truth, because then I will have to face every hiding place. There are the voices in my head, daring me to speak, and I shrink inside of myself. The guilt and silence behind the curtain of my pain, I cower. You barge through my doors, never knocking, and here I am, camouflaged behind a laugh and a smile. I tell you what you want to hear because I'm afraid that you will leave. It is inevitable, an enventuality one way or another. She is the surrogate moving away from me. "Do you not want to come for awhile?" "Do you need a break?", and those words frighten me. Maybe I don't have anymore to say. Maybe...