From the Trail to the Mat — a Daily Offering

Maine — 100 Mile Wilderness

I came to the mat bruised—not just in body but in spirit.

In late July 2024, I stepped off the Appalachian Trail in Maine after hiking 500 miles. I had intended to continue southward making my way back towards  Damascus, Virginia after a break… but life, pain, and politics intervened.

There are a lot of reasons why I didn’t continue with that trajectory—each one echoed concern, disappointment, even failure. Not only did I feel the heaviness of needing to plan for an all-to-predictable Trump presidency after his striking photo appeared moments after being shot at— but after an IT overuse injury after a hailstorm and the toll of walking, the moment I stopped walking, the exhaustion was overwhelming. It became extremely difficult to sit and get back up again. 

At one point, I needed a handrail just to lift myself from the toilet—my body, which had carried me through forests and mountains, now trembled under the weight of simply standing. Back in San Francisco, I landed in the ER twice, struggling just to get enough calories in—my body fighting to keep up.

I can say maybe I didn’t train hard enough and maybe I was carrying too much — dog food adds up. Yes, yes, and yes. It was a lifelong dream—and with it came a complex mix of disappointment and fragile pride in how far I had come. 

Regardless, by the time I came to Spain in February 2025, I was still in pain. It wasn’t unbearable and I could get up and down ok, but my range of motion was utterly shot. I was starting to worry and wonder if I’d ever be able to do another long distance through-hike, let alone even a few-day backpacking trip, again. I’d stop to admire wildflowers, trace bark with my fingers, and smile at snails. I walked with wonder — until walking became too much.

And then something wonderful happened… 

I met a yoga instructor here in Estepona, Spain, named Andy. I’ve done yoga here and there in the past but when I came to Andy, I was not only carrying the grief and pain of the trail but also my country. 

Different to other yoga classes I’ve taken, Andy meets you where you’re at. To paraphrase… 

“The mat beckons you to come as you are. You honor your mind, body, and soul just by showing up.” 

He speaks to you with a gentle kindness while encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone. 

A month later, I was talking to another friend, Alex (who recently got her yoga teaching certificate — go Alex!) taking his class and she hit something hard, that even years of therapy was difficult for me to do, “maybe you should talk to yourself like how Andy talks to us in class.”  She was right of course and I needed those few hours a week in yoga class as a model, not only to stretch and strengthen my body, but to mentally and spiritually remember to be kind to myself. To come together in a space that welcomed all of it, connecting the mind with the body and the spirit. 

A lot of brokenness and healing came together on that mat. And through it all, Andy remained a steady guide. 

I started to see massive improvements in my mobility in just a couple short months pairing it with an occasional dip in the sea. Eventually, I found myself desiring to come to the mat every day on my own ending the practice with a 20 minute breathwork practice. 

About a month ago, something miraculous happened after my flow as I was breathing deeply. I heard, as loud as someone speaking to me, 

“There you are… 

I’ve missed you so, so much. 

Ahza, I missed you and I love you.”  

I began weeping, uncontrollably. 

As a long time atheist with my fair share of religious trauma growing up in a strict evangelical household, I was incredibly shaken and not sure how or if I could dismiss it as just my body and mind reconnecting. But I knew enough to listen—to honor it and to remain present and grounded in the practice. 

So I’ve been coming to the mat with a notebook daily. My body as an offering, meditating and allowing thoughts to come and, most importantly, to go. Just like the breath. I write down what surfaces—messages that feel strangely important, like echoes from something deeper. Much, if not all of it, has been showing up in the book I’m writing, AWAKEN. 

So while I initially came to yoga for physical healing and mobility with the hope of connecting with others and making friends, something far greater than what I could have imagined has birthed from it — a rooted space where I can close my eyes, smell the pines, the dirt under my toes, hear the winds, insects buzzing, songbirds singing, taste the moisture and dirt in the air, see a thousand flowers blossoming and dying and blooming again, and feel the heat on my brow and the comforting arms of Gaia—the Earth Mother, ancient and alive—holding me again. 

If you’re ever in Estepona, maybe you’ll find yourself on the mat with Andy too.

Andy, if you’re reading this, happy 50th birthday! I’m so thankful the universe brought us together and it was wonderful celebrating it with you and your friends and family last Saturday. To many more birthdays and all the love life can bring. 

May we bring our hands to our head— for an open mind and kind thoughts. 

To the lips— to speak kind words. 

And to our hearts—for a loving heart and kind intentions. 

The light in me honors the light in you. 

I bow to you, namaste. 

After a wild adventure in the 100 Mile Wilderness— wet, tired, and happy. Pippin and I walked every step together. He was always leading the charge, tail wagging and nose to the wind.