As I write this, I'm in the studio, sitting in the lobby working on my laptop doing this and that and in the background listening to and watching Sarah Husher teach her Monday evening Vinyasa class. 

There is so much calm in this class, I note as I listen and periodically peek into the studio, and so much hard work going on, too, that I realize after a minute I have myself become calm, sitting and amazed and touched by these students'--and this teacher's--tenacity in their practice and guidance.

Sarah speaks:  How lucky we all are to have the bodies we do, to be able to engage in the practice as we do.  But really, she says, our bodies are merely on loan.  We have to take care of our bodies.  "So take care of your house," she says, expanding on the analogy of grand impermanence: The idea of how we can't take any of it with us, but that does not mean we are not responsible for it while we are here.  

I think about my yoga house (this new studio!), and how I love to be here, and how I love to take care of it and the people here, for it feels like a place of good people and good yoga.

But then I focus on a downside, my current physical limitations that are prohibiting me from any posture practice of my own, and which are making teaching--and even cleaning my studio--very challenging. 

I sit pouting for awhile.

Sarah is preparing to end her class.  She speaks:  We end where we begin, soft, but more conditioned....Her students have returned to Child Posture, the opening posture.

This phrase--that we end where we began, but more conditioned--strikes me.  I imagine myself healthy and taking class again, back where I began years ago, before this studio, before my pain began, back to Child Pose.  Of simply practicing again.  And of more than that.  Of something taller than that.  Of sweeping my studio with joy rather than pain-fed groans.  And of more than that.  Of finally learning to stand on my own two hands in the middle of the floor, without a wall or a teacher. 

Our bodies are on loan, it is true, but our hearts and spirits are not, and this class in this space in this moment, from my very participating as an outside member, gave me hope again, a surge, a conviction to stand up, and to keep standing up.

I imagine spirit, and yoga, and love. And that even challenges are okay.

And then Sarah plays for her students John Lennon's "Imagine."

Imagine, indeed.

Well, the new Pink Lotus Yoga studio has been open for almost three weeks, and it's been quite a journey already, not only for myself but for the many members of the PLY kula who helped get these doors open.  In particular, Terry Grdina and Lindsey Wilber--who kept showing up day after day to prime, paint, help us tear up a floor and prep it for painting, move and haul things, and many tasks I have undoubtedly forgotten--are to be richly thanked, and are, from the bottom of my heart.  The Camino family; my sister; my brother; friend and window designer Maria Weber Kramer; student, friend, and artist Dave Smith; student and friend Robin Suttell; friend Ben Small; business advisor extraordinaire Aaron Vaughn; and my fellow Grrl Geniuses all deserve a big round of yogic applause for what they have given to me, to the space, and to the spirit of yoga community over the last six months.  But I can't end this list of thanks without thanking a very special person:  Ann Fiorilli. 

It was Ann, a quiet student with pretty great yoga skill, who came up to me one summer day after an outdoor yoga class at Rocky River Park and offered her services to the Pink Lotus Yoga studio-to-be.  Having heard from me that I was planning on opening a studio, Ann let me know that space design was her thing--who knew??--and that she wanted to work with me to create a studio that I would love.  

What a gift that was, and how lucky I am.  Ann went into action before I'd even located a space, creating a lovely concept board of colors, shapes, and textures that she thought best represented what I was all about as a person and yogi.  We ran with her concept, and once we found a space--18103 Detroit Avenue in Lakewood, OH--she really got down to work, offering countless suggestions: from color to carpet.  Every inch of my studio is a testament--thanks to Ann's devotion and vision--of the good things that can arise when community-building is at the helm.  Thank you, Ann.

And to all of you, I thank you for reading and wish you a yoga-filled holiday season and new year.  Come by to our studio.  Did I mention that the yoga here is as cool as the space?  It is.  --Namaste.