The yoga I do is Baptiste yoga, a heated, power flow.  It’s very physical, but it can be done by anyone and perfected by no one.  One of my favorite things that Baron Baptiste talks about in his books is to give up what you think you know.  The older and wiser I get, the less I really know and the more questions I have. Today, I had a couple reminders that I really need to rid myself of preconceived notions.  I’ll share one and keep the other between my Epic yoga teacher friends. 

 A very southern tradition is cotillion.   I really thought I grew up in the south but have learned since I moved to Tennessee that Virginia isn’t that southern.  Virginians don’t say “fixin’ to,” eat boiled peanuts or fried okra, and I don’t recall ever hearing of a cotillion.   When Lauren first joined the Brentwood Girls Cotillion, I have to admit that I wasn’t terribly excited.  I knew they called the club a “sorority,” I had heard rumors of parties with drinking, and it just seemed a bit snooty to me.  But it was clearly so important to Lauren that I paid the dues.  Heck, even I fell for the Jordache jeans and Candies heels (which looked like hooker shoes)back in the late 70’s/early 80’s  so I understood the need to go along with the crowd.   The club has had some meetings,  a dinner, and a few charitable fundraisers.  But it was time for the last event of the year: the presentation.  My inner Gloria Steinem was totally against a daughter of mine being “presented” to society in a virginal white dress, finally eligible for marrying and birthing babies. Ugh. I have  learned that sometimes the best thing to say is nothing, but I will admit that I’ve done my share of eye rolling over this whole thing.  I helped pay for some of the dress, and even helped with the jewelry and gave her tips on makeup which she actually followed!  I know.  I’m shocked, too.  I  rushed home from yoga training today to jump in the shower, throw on a hat to cover my yoga hair and get to the event to show my support, not necessarily to the idea of this, but to my Lauren.  Turns out…it was fine.  No big deal.  I was wrong.   She looked beautiful and laughed with her friends as I looked on with pride.   This has been another lesson for me on this journey.   Give up what you think your life was supposed to be. It is what it is.   If you have been hurt in love, give up the notion that you are not made for love.   If you have preconceived notions of what love is supposed to look like or when it is supposed to show up in your life, give that up.  I recall my late husband telling me when we were juniors in college that I was exactly the right girl at the wrong time.  I said that was fine with me, and he quickly figured it all out.  Give up what you think you know about parenting because as most parents know, just when you think you have it figured out,  something new pops up and you are left to improvise.  Give up what you think you know about being afraid of being alone because as I found out today with my friends, I am really never alone.  

Today has been another step forward in the story of how Sarah is getting her groove back, slowly but surely.  Who knows? Someday, I may even borrow that silk, ivory cotillion dress  from Lauren, wear it on a beach, barefoot, happy and in love again.  Better yet. Maybe I will wear a bikini and a toe ring  and throw out everything I know.