In that moment when my mind was somewhere else from my body, I fell. My head was trying to reach my friend in New York back on the phone who a moment ago was telling me about her family in Syria until we got cut off. My body was going to the U-Bahn in Berlin rushing to get to the theater on time. I was texting while walking down the stairs (not smart!), unaware of where I was and missed the last step. I felt my ankle twist out as I landed on the ground and thought, “I'm glad it's this ankle. Here we go again.”

It was just over 2 years ago that I slipped and fell and fractured my other ankle. That was a break and felt different from the beginning. My “good ankle” appears to only be badly sprained ligaments which already seems to be healing (thankful for inversions). Two years ago, I took that injury and accident as a cue to practice more on my foot and leg work in my asana practice and to be more aware of how I walk in everyday life. It was all going well until it wasn't.

Moments of broken awareness happen all the time. As yoga practitioners, we train our mind to be more connected to our body. It sounds like a straight forward proposition, but anyone who has ever trained in sport, art, or music knows that bringing the mind and body together is a complicated, ongoing dance. Some commentators of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali say that it's intentional and important that Patanjali began his treatise on yoga with the word atha meaning now. This word now is a declaration, bringing our attention into the present moment. Now we begin, meaning that we start again and again, and now beginning our exploration. Being fully in the present is essential to yoga and this is precisely what makes it difficult.

Our lives are full of distractions that make it challenging to be in the present. Patanjali writes that some of the vrittis (turning of consciousness) are klishta (colored) and others are aklishta (uncolored) meaning that some pain us and some do not. It is our practice as yoga students to reduce the 'color' of the painful vrittis by cultivating vairagya, non-attachment to pleasure and pain alike. Our passions, our attachments, are often what we feel define us and our place in the world. My feet collapsing beneath me, missing my step yet again, and falling have slowed me down just enough to explore where I am right now, attachments and all. Yoga is a gift in more ways than one and just in time for the holiday season!

For most of you, this will be my last email for the year. Sadhana Circle members will receive one more with news and dates (they're already in the membership portal) of our upcoming year. I will be with my German family over Christmas and then in India in January. In January, you'll hear from me in Pune where I'll attend RIMYI's 50-year celebration and 2-week intensive.

Thank you for reading these yoga musings and sharing this year of yoga with me. I send you and your loved ones wishes of peace and health during this time and in the new year.