Yoga for the Homesick - Om Sweet Om

This month, two of our sweet yogis left us to embark on the next chapter of their lives. They were a pair of brilliant lights and beautiful souls, whose presence is most definitely missed. Patience and Ethan are the kind of people that come in to your life, if only for a short time, and make it a little brighter. Patience is  a fantastic writer and was kind enough to contribute a couple of blog posts before she left. Sometimes the thoughts and words of someone else can help begin to untangle a knot we have inside ourselves.  We wanted to take a moment to wish them the best of luck on their adventure and safe travels, it is never goodbye but see you again soon! With so much love - Your KYD Family 


Yoga for the Homesick


I’ve been wandering around the country for some time now. My family and home is tucked away in the green mountains of Vermont, where I left them to stumble and glide through my twenties. I’m not going to pretend I knew what I was doing when I packed up my car and drove away. The transition from adolescence to adulthood is this disastrous collision we spend years preparing for, and I’m just kind of trying to find humor in the ride.


Sometimes, I lie on my bed in the calm air of the morning and wonder how time and distance—this intangible, invisible claw—can have such a tight grasp on me. In these moments, I feel like I could swing my legs over the mattress and find myself back in the high grass behind my Vermont home with an old German shepherd panting beside me. Sometimes, it feels like I could slide on my slippers and suddenly become a child again with small hands and short blonde hair. I wonder if I ever grew up at all. It’s like I’m drifting aimlessly.


Since leaving home, I’ve been trying to find my balance—letting myself drift and finding gravity again. I’m grounded by the simplest things: the soft fur behind my puppy’s ear when I get home from work, the rush of electricity that runs through me when I write music, when I smile and am smiled at, and soil underneath my bare feet. When I miss my family and the rolling rivers and hills of Vermont, I let myself drift away for a moment, before coming back to my body. But when I practice yoga, I stop floating. My mat is the only thing that holds me down to the earth. I am a collection of moments and places and people—with strings around their hearts attached to mine; and through yoga, I’m guided back to the home inside my own body. 


                                                    by  - Patience Hurlburt-Lawton

Patience is a 24-year-old writer from Salisbury, Vermont. She is a lover of many things, including the outdoors, animals, and all forms of creative expression. She has been apart of our KYD community for several months, and it is always a joy to see her roll out her mat and join us in class!