A melody emerges in the darkness.

My spirit slowly surfaces, and my mind gently moves and stretches.

I quietly state, “Siri, stop.” I open my eyes, turn to my side, and tap my phone. I swipe up and tap a small blue icon to open an interval timer app, then place the phone on a small metal stand on the floor.

I stand and gather a navy blanket, sheet, and pillow from the floor of my living room, carry them to the bedroom, and set them on an end table. I return and carry a small futon mattress to the bedroom and place it behind a futon couch.

I shower and shave, then sweep the wooden living room floor.

I arrange some yoga props – a midnight blue yoga mat and a few light blue yoga blocks.

I walk to my phone and press the start button for the interval timer, then I open the blinds to my window and look out into the darkness.

The blue digital clock on one of my altars reads 5 a.m.

I stand in Tadasana.

*

I live in a retirement center in a small town near the Wind River Range.

It feels like–home.

*

In Tadasana, I begin by reciting a ceremony prayer.

I choose ceremony.

I take refuge in ceremony.

I grow with ceremony.

Then I relax deeply into the spirit of a mountain.

*

One challenge some veterans face is coming home.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Tadasana to Vrksasana. I usually only practice a simple preparatory pose – I leave my hands at my sides, shift my weight to one foot, and raise the other foot slightly off of the floor.

*

I think of coming home as consisting of three main parts–returning to a place, returning to a community, and returning to a self–a person that was in relationship to this place and this community.

*

In the winter, I cross-country ski frequently. I used to classic ski, but now I only skate ski. The local trails are amazing. I feel great joy when I am immersed in the snow, golden sunlight, and blue sky.

*

In Vrksasana, I visualize skate skiing. When I balance on one foot, I imagine balancing on one ski. I shift my weight gently in all directions in order to simulate balance in motion. Over time, it feels like small muscles around my ankles are strengthening and adapting, and my balance is improving.

*

For some veterans, however, the activity of coming home may feel impossible–the intensity and trauma of military experiences means we are fundamentally transformed. The connections with place, community, and self may feel irreparably broken.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Vrksasana to Uttanasana. I relax completely into the forward bend. I like to keep my feet about hip width apart, creating more space for my abdomen and allowing me to breathe more easily. I usually start with my hands on yoga blocks and eventually rest my hands on the floor. When I want to go even deeper, I clasp my elbows and gently hang toward the floor.

*

For veterans with these traumatic experiences, the challenge shifts from coming home to finding home–creating new relationships with place, community, and self.

Sometimes this challenge begins with a literal period of being homeless.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Uttanasana to Utthita Trikonasana. I experiment with a few adjustments. I observe how far apart my feet are, and I adjust to find an optimum distance. I then lengthen my spine and gently twist toward the ceiling.

*

I was homeless for two years in Denver. I would usually sleep outside or at the Denver Rescue mission. During the day, I typically checked in at the St. Francis Center day shelter, then spent time at local coffee shops or the public library.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Utthita Trikonasana to Utthita Parsvakonasana. The pose feels similar to Trikonasana, but with the bent front knee, it feels like I can work more deeply into the hip.

*

I developed protocols for shaving and showering every day and wearing clean clothes, so I could usually pass for housed. I kept a low profile and avoided conflicts.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Utthita Parsvakonasana to Ardha Chandrasana. I place my bottom hand on two yoga blocks, so that my spine is roughly level with the ground. This is one of my favorite poses–I feel weightless, like I’m flying.

*

Eventually, I was placed in a VA transitional program for homeless veterans run by the Colorado Coalition for the Homeless. There were about 40 or 50 of us in the program. We had to meet with a case manager once a week and go to our choice of a group activity each week.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Ardha Chandrasana to Parivrtta Trikonasana. I fidget a little bit and experiment with different sizes of yoga blocks to find out what feels best on this day. I lengthen my spine, twist, and stretch one arm toward the ceiling.

*

One day, my case manager asked me something unexpected.

“Another veteran wants to start a vet-to-vet process group, once a week, and I would like you to be co-leader.”

I thought about it for a moment.

“Yes,” I replied, “But I will probably just ask people how their week was and then listen to them talk about whatever they want to talk about.”

He smiled and said, “That will be fine.”

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Parivrtta Trikonasana to Parivrtta Parsvakonasana. Again, the bent front knee changes the type of work in the hip. I lengthen my spine and twist.

*

The group went well, quickly becoming one of the more popular choices. A few weeks later, the other co-leader transitioned out of the program, and my case manager did not replace him, so I ended up leading the group alone for the next year.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Parivrtta Parsvakonasana to Parivrtta Ardha Chandrasana. I adjust the position of the yoga block for the bottom hand, searching for a height that feels ideal. Then I lift the back leg, lengthen the spine, twist, and stretch the top arm toward the ceiling.

*

Occasionally, veterans would approach me outside of the group.

One night, a young combat veteran who served in Iraq woke me up at 2 a.m. and asked to talk with me. We went into the group room, and he told me the story of his most traumatic experience in combat. When he finished, emotions racked his body. He cried for over 20 minutes.

I saw him a week later, and he seemed much improved. He was walking down the hall with one of his friends.

They stopped, and he said, “This is John. He was there for me when I broke down.”

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Parivrtta Ardha Chandrasana to Virabhadrasana 1. I ease into the traditional pose, and then I experiment with gently leaning into a backbend.

*

Eventually, I transitioned out of the program and moved into a permanent supportive housing facility with the Colorado Coalition for the Homeless.

I stayed there for a year, then felt a strong intuition to move.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Virabhadrasana 1 to Virabhadrasana 2. I observe and adjust the position of my feet, legs, and pelvis, and then twist slightly and lengthen my arms.

*

In my apartment at the retirement center, one of the first things that I did was create a yoga room and begin a yoga practice.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Virabhadrasana 2 to Virabhadrasana 3. I experiment with an easy variation where I allow my arms to hang toward the floor, and I practice balancing on one foot.

*

One of the main historical texts about yoga centers around a military experience.

The Bhagavad Gita is a story about Arjuna, a warrior who is in a deep spiritual crisis about the activity of warfare.

In the beginning, Arjuna is at the point where he is ready to end his life by setting down his weapons and allowing his enemies to kill him, rather than engaging them in combat.

The Gita unfolds in 18 sections, which consist mainly of conversations between Arjuna and his charioteer, Krishna. Each conversation forms a samvadya–a teaching.

In these teachings, Krishna expresses three main approaches to yoga:

the yoga of karma, or action

the yoga of samnyasa, or renunciation

the yoga of bhakti, or devotion

Krishna tries to persuade Arjuna to engage in combat–as it is consistent with his sacred dharma, or duty.

Eventually, Arjuna engages.

After the war, both sides of the conflict–the Pandavas and the Kauravas–are decimated. There are a few survivors on each side.

Arjuna lives.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Virabhadrasana 3 to Parsvottanasana. I ease into the pose and relax deeply.

*

The teachings of the Bhagavad Gita have been helpful to me–particularly in reflecting on a broader spiritual perspective for military service.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Parsvottanasana to Prasarita Padottanasana. I begin with my hands on yoga blocks, and then I slowly place my hands on the floor. Eventually, I clasp my elbows and hang gently.

*

In addition to the Bhagavad Gita, one contemporary text on yoga has been particularly helpful to me–Light on Yoga, by BKS Iyengar.

*

I think of my morning yoga practice as two parts–standing poses and other poses. My phone chimes, and I move from standing poses to other poses–from Prasarita Padottanasana to Sirsasana.

I used to practice a classic headstand, but now I use a headstand bench. I set the bench on a yoga mat several feet away from a wall, then I slowly step up into a headstand. I gently shift my weight and observe which muscles engage and compare these engagements to Tadasana.

*

I started practicing yoga around 1980, when I was still in high school. I was a distance runner, and I read Runner’s World regularly. One month, they had an article on yoga that I enjoyed. Shortly after, I got a copy of Runner’s World Yoga Book by Jean Couch. A few months later, I got a copy of Light on Yoga by BKS Iyengar, and I formed a dream of studying with him in India.

*

In Sirsasana, I begin to work on variations. I begin with Hanumanasana in Sirsasana–a front split in headstand, then I return to neutral and move up and down a few times in a straddle press. Next, I move up and down a few times in a pike press. After that, I return to Hanumanasana for a moment, and then twist into Parivrtta Eka Pada Sirsasana. I return again to Hanumanasana, and then bend my back knee and move into Eka Pada Rajakapotasana 4 in Sirsasana. I slowly drop back into Sirsa Padasana. The headstand bench is so stable that I can stay for a long time and explore what is happening in my spine.

*

When I finished high school, I joined the Navy. We were allowed to take one book to basic training. I took Light on Yoga.

*

My phone chimes, and I step down and rest in child’s pose, then  start another interval of variations in Sirsasana. I begin with a slight hop into a pike press up, and then I approach Sirsa Padasana but flow through into a variation of Dwi Pada Viparita Dandasana with my feet against the wall. I lengthen my abdominal muscles and gradually kick through Sirsa Padasana, back into a headstand and a pike press down. I repeat several times. This movement resembles Viparita Chakrasana (or tick tocks) in a handstand. 

*

After basic training, I was stationed on an aircraft carrier. When we were at homeport in Norfolk, I took a few local yoga classes, but they were not in the Iyengar style. One night, a guest teacher led a workshop. John Schumacher had come down from the DC area, and he was my first Iyengar-style yoga teacher.

A few weeks later in the fall of 1982, I rode my motorcycle three hours north to take a two hour private lesson from him. He helped me develop a simple sequence that I could practice daily.

For the next three years, I practiced this sequence on the aircraft carrier for about an hour a day on the tile floor of our berthing area in the four-foot-wide space between the sleeping racks.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Sirsasana to Adho Mukha Vrksasana. I feel like I’m still a beginner learning handstands. I continue to use a wall for support.

I gently kick up several times and rest in child’s pose. I observe the weight on my hands, and slowly shift back and forth from the heels of my hands to my fingertips. I lengthen my arms and shoulders, and work to create firmness and stability.

My phone chimes, and I spend another interval gently working on handstands. I have a dream of being able to perform Viparita Chakrasana some day, but it feels far away.

*

After my tour on the aircraft carrier, I was stationed in San Diego on shore duty. As I was driving in the Ocean Beach neighborhood near my apartment, I noticed a sign for a local Iyengar yoga center.

For the next four years, I went to class nearly every day. My teachers were Mary Dunn and Mary Obendorfer. The center also occasionally invited guest yoga teachers to conduct workshops, including Angela Farmer. I felt deeply inspired by her organic, flowing, feminine approach.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Adho Mukha Vrksasana to Urdhva Dhanurasana. Instead of pushing up from the floor, I stand a few feet away from a wall, and slowly lean back with my arms above my head. I think of Uttanasana, and let gravity gently open my spine.

*

In July of 1988, I took over a month’s leave from the Navy and joined a group from Southern California and traveled to Pune, India, to attend an intensive class led by BKS Iyengar and his daughter, Geeta Iyengar.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Urdhva Dhanurasana to Kapotasana. In a similar fashion, I kneel and slowly lean back, and let gravity gently open my spine. 

*

My first impression of BKS Iyengar was that he moved like a freediver. His body was completely relaxed, moving with a calm grace. As the weeks unfolded, I was astonished by his proficiency in the poses and the depths of his teaching.

It was transformative to meet Geeta. Her devotion, knowledge, and service were deeply inspiring. I feel haunted by one thing she said that I still don’t understand–If you enter into a depression do not despair–the seed of that depression is the root of your yoga.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Kapotasana to Adho Mukha Svanasana. I move slowly into the pose, and I lengthen my arms, firm my thighs, lengthen my spine, and allow my heels to rest on the floor.

*

I am fond of a Buddhist refuge prayer:

I take refuge in the Buddha.

I take refuge in the Dharma (teaching).

I take refuge in the Sangha (community).

I would anticipate an emphasis on the Buddha and the Dharma, but the emphasis on the Sangha feels unexpected and significant–that a community can be articulated as a primary resource for a spiritual path.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Adho Mukha Svanasana to Salabhasana. As I go into the pose, I begin by keeping my arms alongside my torso. Eventually, I move my arms out to the side. I visualize a raven in flight and gently move my arms in a similar fashion.

*

Studying yoga in India with BKS Iyengar and Geeta Iyengar felt like the fulfillment of a life dream. I continue to practice many of the lessons that I learned on a daily basis.

Now, decades later, my yoga practice is unfolding in an unexpected way. I continue to listen deeply to my body and how it responds to various poses. What feels unexpected, however, is that I continue to learn a significant amount from the broad community of people who practice yoga.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Salabhasana to Urdhva Prasarita Padasana. I lie on my back and move my legs up and down in a pike press. I also do a variation where I move my legs up and down in a straddle press.

*

The Iyengar style of yoga may be one of the main lineages of contemporary yoga.

And, what seems significant to me is the emergence of a complimentary, community centered, post-lineage yoga.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Urdhva Prasarita Padasana to Virasana. I gather several yoga props: bolsters, blankets, and straps. Then, I sit in Virasana.

*

One of the main community resources that I find helpful is actually YouTube. I watch a number of yoga instructors who have channels with detailed videos of their practice.

Subscription websites are another community resource I find helpful. I watch Alo Moves–which is like a Netflix of yoga videos–with numerous videos from over a hundred different instructors.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Virasana to Supta Virasana. I slowly lean back, supported by a bolster under my torso and a blanket beneath my head.

*

One night in a homeless shelter, I was in a bunk across from another veteran. He was a slender Black man about my age who had been in the Marines. He wore blue jeans and an old white t-shirt, and his eyes were haunted with the worst case of PTSD that I’ve ever seen.

At one point, he asked me, “What does your family think about you?”

I replied, “I believe that they wish me well.”

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Supta Virasana to Supta Baddha Konasana. I sit up, wrap a yoga strap around my lower back and the soles of my feet, and then lie back in Supta Baddha Konasana with a blanket beneath my head.

*

Later that night, I saw the same veteran pacing beside his bunk, repeating the phrase, “You can do this. You can do this.”

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Supta Baddha Konasana to Triang Mukhaikapada Paschimottanasana. In the last few months, I am beginning to feel more of an opening in the pose–I’m beginning to feel more of a restorative effect.

*

From my perspective, it’s not possible to deny trauma, and it’s not possible to bypass it or go around it. The path is to feel your way through it–ideally, a little bit at a time. But sometimes, it might be terrifying.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Triang Mukhaikapada Paschimottanasana to Janu Sirsasana. I am also feeling more of an opening in this pose, and I’m beginning to feel more of a restorative effect.

*

One way yoga helps me is to provide a large period of time every day, free from distractions, to reflect on whatever thoughts or feelings arise. 

Another way yoga helps me is that in the process of listening deeply to the physicality of my body and how it moves in the poses, I develop a greater capacity to listen deeply to other parts of my body–including memories, emotions, and intuition.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Janu Sirsasana to Paschimottanasana. Similar to the previous two forward bends, I am slowly feeling more opening in the pose, and feeling glimpses of a greater restorative effect.

*

A few years after I left Denver, I returned for three weeks to attend a peer support professional training course conducted by the Colorado Mental Wellness Network.

I felt reminded that veteran trauma is only one site for a range of possible traumas. The strength of the peer support professional program feels like its community–individuals from a variety of backgrounds who help to address a broad range of possible traumas.

It feels similar to post-lineage yoga–learning that emerges from community.

*

My phone chimes, and I move from Paschimottanasana to Savasana.

I scan my body, and I gradually relax all of my muscles.

I allow a range of thoughts to enter my mind, and then they gradually fade.

Today, several memories surface: previous moments over the past few decades when I have been in Savasana, the tile floor on the aircraft carrier, the wood floor of the San Diego yoga center, the stone floor in India, and the wood floor of my apartment.

I feel a gentle connection to the Savasanas of years past. The previous moments feel like seasons around a remote mountain lake–spring, summer, fall, winter.

Then those memories gradually fade, and I become the lake.

*

My phone chimes.

My practice is complete.

I roll to my side, gradually sit up, and then slowly stand.

I scan the room and slowly pick up bolsters, blankets, straps, and yoga mats. Then, I walk to my phone and turn off the interval timer app.

I scan the room again.

My digital clock reads 10:15 a.m.

*

I slip out of my black yoga shorts and navy cotton tank top, and I slip on a pair of black cotton leggings, socks, and a sky blue tech shirt.

I walk to the door of my apartment and put on a pair of grey hiking shoes and a black fleece jacket.

Then I leave for the coffee shop.

*

A few minutes later, I arrive.

I open the glass door, request my usual coffee, and walk toward my favorite table.

A large pine log forms a bench along the wall. From my corner table, I can see people come and go. I constantly balance conversations and working on my laptop.

I am fond of the black coffee–a blend of Ethiopian and Guatemalan beans that they light roast in house. The smell is wonderful, and the taste is subtle and complex.

I enjoy talking with people I meet randomly at the shop. In particular, I am always curious to talk with two groups I typically meet here–hikers who are walking the Continental Divide Trail, and cyclists who are riding the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

I enjoy hearing their stories about what is most meaningful to them about their journeys, and learning the details about the equipment they use–backpacks, tents, sleeping bags, bikes, navigation tools, and more. I appreciate a window into a culture and its evolving sayings and vocabulary–hike your own hike, thru-hike, section hike, zero day, on trail.

I feel at peace–and at home.

And I also feel that I continue to be on a long journey.

*

Epilogue

In my dream, I am walking in sagebrush.

It is late afternoon, and the landscape is bathed in a golden light. In the distance in front of me, I see the deep blue waters of a lake. Even further in the distance, I see a light blue mountain range.

I turn to my right, and I climb a nearby hill.

When I reach the top, I notice a group of six or seven people standing around a large boulder the size of a dining room table. They each have a small rock in their hands the size of an apple.

I realize they are veterans. As they place their rocks on the boulder, they tell their stories about their experiences.

I begin to walk again, and I notice a rock has appeared in my hands.

The other veterans pause.

I walk slowly to the boulder, place my rock, and bow to the other veterans in respect.

Then I turn, and I continue walking in sagebrush.