When I first moved to Sydney two months ago, I knew practically nobody, save for a distant relative who lives 1.5 hours away from me, and a couple of wonderful women I met from Yoga Thailand back in March.
This isn’t California, where most of my closest high school friends and my boyfriend are residing now. This ain’t Taipei either, where my family is, and where I have become part of a vivid yoga community and whom all feel like family to me.
It was hard adjusting to this completely independent (and somewhat lonely) life. It still is. I am at a foreign country, and a place located outside my comfort zone. This was what I wanted though, to experience and live a different environment.
One thing that held steady is my practice. Despite my inner turmoil regarding how…alone…I am, I still have this one thing that always makes me feel at home. My practice has always been the constant in my life. It is so portable, so versatile, and travels with me wherever I go. All it needs is a little space, a steady mind, and a connection between breath and movement.
Sometimes, if I am lucky, I find a community with whom I can share my practice with. My practice is my home, and my classmates become more or less like a second family to me. Seeing the same people everyday brings comfort to my mind, for in this new place I can still find constancy.
Every morning I express gratitude, and I ask for forgiveness and guidance. Every morning I breathe with awareness, and I center my mind. Every morning, I say to myself, “I am home.“