Faith and Yoga

I was raised holy, not Holy. My dad taught me to be an outspoken, stand-up-for-your-rights, speak-your-truth kind of girl. I was sassy, filterless, disrespectful at times, and almost certain to offend someone.

Becoming Catholic

As a young adult, I joined the Catholic Church. I was a woman with questions in need of answers, and Catholicism wasn’t unfamiliar to me. My husband and his entire family were Catholic, as was my paternal grandmother. While she raised her children in the faith, many of them grew into adults who didn’t belong to any specific church.

During our time on a military installation in Stuttgart, Germany, I was intrigued by the priest at our local post chapel. He was the kind of man who would cuss while drinking a beer at the bar right along with the soldiers. Father was human, acted like a human, and gave great advice. He taught me to never stop asking questions.

But as I matured in the faith, I realized I wanted to be “all in”—as I am with most things. By all in, I didn’t mean being Catholic sometimes; I meant being Catholic all the time. I studied in depth, yet I could never quite get on board with everything. It was difficult for me to understand why the rules had formed to allow no women priests, why priests couldn’t marry, or why I was expected to “go forth and multiply” into a pew full of children I didn’t want. I had one, I considered that enough, I had checked the box.

Questioning

I sought guidance from our priest at the time, another inspiring and intelligent young man. He told me, “You can go forth and multiply without having your own children; there are many ways to do this. However, it is a sin to stop conception in any form other than natural family planning.”

I hated that answer. I tested it out for a while, anxiety high all the time, and praying for no “oops” babies. When my husband received a year-long assignment away from his family, I decided I was done with the fear, guilt, and shame that had been compiling for far too long. My time as a devout Catholic came to an end; I could no longer ride the waves of these ancient, misogynistic ideas of populating the world.

Yoga

Simultaneously, I was becoming a yoga practitioner and teacher. I constantly carried a secondary fear that I was somehow betraying God, Jesus, and Catholicism. Like most, I feared eternal consequences and being seen as a fraud by my religion. I grappled with my beliefs, but my eyes were also opening to the parallels between yoga philosophy (which is not a religion) and my Christian faith.

Yoga saved me where religion couldn’t. It gave me a trusted medicine—one I could turn to whenever my relationship with my body, mind, and spirit felt uneasy. Yoga restored me as a person; it bettered me in ways nothing else had. It pushed me to question my identity, my purpose, and my destiny, helping me live with greater clarity and presence.

Discovering Me Through Balance

Through the teachings of yoga, I learned discernment. I could finally walk alongside both the benefits and the faults of Christianity and organized religion. Yoga taught me to be vulnerable enough to confess my sins, while still loving myself through my imperfections. It never asked me to replace my belief system or become someone I am not. Instead, it allowed me to listen more carefully to the truth that had been speaking to me all along. I am perfectly imperfect, lovingly made.  I do no need to fear because He keeps me steady, He has given me great purpose, and He provides for all my needs. All I have to do is live a life of yoga; union of mind, body, and spirit.  What a gift!

Learn more about me and my practices on Youtube. Learn more about my purpose here.