Putting Down the Backpack

A woman in her mid-sixties came into class carrying far more than her yoga mat.

She appeared restless and tense. Her breathing was erratic, and being still seemed almost impossible. I could sense how quickly her mind was moving and how much she was holding in her shoulders.

In the middle of class, I gently placed my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay to rest,” I told her. “Your body wants to rest.”

She sat down.

After some time, she returned to the practice—but she returned differently. She had listened to her body instead of fighting against it.

As she was leaving, she shared that she was going through the painful ending of a long relationship. It was her second significant breakup, and she was having difficulty focusing on anything other than what she was experiencing and what might happen next.

“The only time my mind feels peaceful is when I’m here,” she said. “For a little while, I stop thinking about myself, my life, and what is going to happen to me.”

In the yoga room, she had found a few small moments when she could simply listen to her breath and feel her body. She did not have to solve her life or carry everything at once. She was grateful that she had come, and grateful that she had allowed herself to rest.

She walked out of the room a little lighter.

No one truly knows how heavy another person’s backpack of life may be. Sometimes we do not recognize the weight of our own until we finally put it down.

Perhaps we put it down for only a moment or two. Over time, those moments may become minutes, and those minutes may become an hour.

We release the load.

We stay with the body.

We stay with the breath.

When it is time to leave the room, we may have to pick the backpack up again—but now we carry it differently. Our shoulders are drawn back. Our breath moves more freely. Our body feels aligned, and we remember our strength.

The burdens may still be there, but we are steadier, more patient, and better able to meet the day.

That is the gift of the practice: discovering what it feels like to be present, connected, and strong—and remembering that this strength remains within us, whether we are standing on the mat or walking back into our lives.