I was reticent. I was.

The last time I was there, I was wearing a polyester jumper a newly fried and badly done perm and sadly overweight...and ten years old.

It's twenty years later and here I am again with a man whom I've known for over a decade and always thought hated me.
Like pull your hair in first grade hate you and tease you kind of hate.
How did this happen?

Technically, I work for the happiest place on earth, as my clients are the Disney's, one of the loveliest families I have ever met in my entire life.
I love going into their home and hopefully, by the end of each hour, for the last three years, help in making them the happiest people on earth.

I ran into my old friend, the one who teased and didn't like me, at an audition a few weeks ago. He talked to me, hugged me like I was his long lost and it was like...well, like a high school reunion. You are happy to see me? Well, I'm happy to see you too! Let bygones be.

We chatted some after the audition and he expounded upon his love for all things Disney.
We must go, he said.
OK! I said, thinking, it ain't never gonna happen.
Fun.
I think I know what it is. But whatever, life.
I work, I do some 'things' I think are fun then it's on to the next thing.

The Disney's, whether they like it or not, are like my second family, my LA family. They are a model of how a family should be and I'm so grateful they let me into their homes to share yoga with them.

They also gave me a ticket to Disneyland.
Get over your ten year old fat kid routine and have a good time, Mrs. Disney said!
Ok.
So me and the guy who hated me drove to Anaheim on a cloudy cool day and it was on.

I had Band-Aids and stain sticks and toilet seat covers (thanks Susan) and hand sanitizer.
I had healthy snacks, a sweatshirt and a good attitude.
I was caffeinated, hydrated, rested and happy.
And that was before we got into the park.

That Disney place runs a good show!!
Driving, parking, effortless.
The park is pristine and bright and you'd have to force a frown.
Waiting on line for hours...
Didn’t care.
The rides I 'had' to go on from Disney fans, didn't care. Standing, walking, idling, pausing, whatevering.
I was there and time stopped.
Because, I don't think there are clocks there.
No one looks like a fool eating a turkey leg or having their face half painted in purple and I'm talking about the adults.
Kids in large doses overwhelm me, but then so do large quantities of adults.
If I keep my chin up, I won't even notice the kids.
But the kids are happy. So f-ing cute and happy and excited to see the beautiful Cinderella or Snow White.
So I kept my head high and low.
My friend knew Disney like an Angeleno knows the 405 and 101.
He knew how to navigate and fast pass and wait.
There's a lot of waiting.
And a lot of time to get to know a new old friend.
Space Mountain.
That's the thing to do.
I don't remember going on Space Mountain as a kid. I don't really remember much. Only the herbal tea rides as my family (when I was 10, was never into 'those crazy upside down' rides). Dumbo, teacups and a lot of walkin' around and eating. Not much in the ride department. I didn't know how to be scared or open yet. I just knew I didn't like me much, even at Disneyland.

After an hour and a half of waiting for this ride and chatting with my friend, we were off.

Flutters of nerves were subsided as soon as I was locked into the car.

What am I to expect?

School trips at Great Adventure in New Jersey or was it Pennsylvania? I don't know. Just a long bus ride and pushing elbows up and down so that truckers would honk their horns.
Things that went upside down and made you scream until you were on land to hug about it with a crush or gossip about it with a gal pal. I don't remember the feeling.

I'm an adult now, jaded and I've done a lot of scary things. Like life.

What's this gonna do for me?

I'm not a kid.
Am I allowed to be a kid?
Even here?
Even without a kid?
I saw more strollers than people, but I know there were a lot of people there.

Disney is filled with anthems as you walk through the park. When you are on a ride, you are experiencing something, like history, like memories and I couldn't help but love every cheesy minute of it.

Cheese.

We ascended into darkness and the screams began. The music drowns the ears and the senses are overwhelmed in a way that makes you feel whole, connected. Not to sound deep. That's for later, but I was 'in it' like what the heck is going on? I'm in this and can't get out. I can puke or climb or jump, but for right now, I'm here and...
We rose and fell and I screamed my head off and laughed like I've never laughed. I closed my eyes for a lot of it but when I opened them and felt the air and saw where I was in 'space', I really felt like...this is it...
A coastergasm. Forget ten, forget 30, and forget your life.

It's possible.

It was seriously, the best two minutes of my life. Every minute of waiting was worth the rush of the ride.
They take pictures at the end. I wish someone told me. I would have touched up. But alas, here it is.

It was fabulous. Of course it was. I even teared a little, because I was so moved at the physical and emotional release. What can I say?

I might be an unconventional yoga teacher, but I'm a yoga teacher nonetheless and I saw the connection.

Why is it that seriously, in a crowd of thousands, everyone was so nice? They should run the freeways with colors and paint and stars and anthems.

We bonded with the kids and adults in front and behind us. We reveled in the glory of the little ride that runs a thousand times a day. But here we are, with these people, in this moment, on this exact ride and it was fucking great. And perfect.

How fun to know what fun is. When I've been neglecting it for so long. It's always there. This is fun. NO, THIS is fun!
I couldn't help but feel the overwhelming connection and liberating release that this ride produces.
Not to get all deep but oh, fuck it. It's yoga, dang it.
It was yoga, union, at it's best and most pure. It was complete fun.
Fun. What does that even mean?
Letting go.
Being in the moment.
I love yoga. I see it everywhere I go.
I saw it in the little fat kid with Mini Mouse ears standing on a narrow ledge with her dads hands just a few inches below her arms as the little girl balanced back and forth and leapt into his arms, time and time again and she was just waiting to get on the Peter Pan ride.
That freedom in childhood.
I remember when I was the fat kid watching Pooh and my favorite, Tigger, bounce about and entertain us. What a great gig.
I remember watching a fish and following him behind a small building, shut the door and take off his costume. I saw him through the cracks, lighting up a cigarette. I yelled to my mom, he's taking off his skin!!!
I remember the bright colors and everything being so much bigger than me.
I remember being scared.
I remember yesterday, probably weighing the same I did when I was ten, with no fear and full awareness and wishing I was ten again with the bad perm waiting for the beautiful Cinderella to come out and tell me I was beautiful.
This is her day job between classes and Cal Poly. But I don't care.
Tell me I'm beautiful and take a damn picture with me.
I believe you.
I believe.
Like Peter freekin' Pan. I believe.

I'm going to eat my healthy walnuts and fruit then head to the cotton candy stand.
I thought I was open to it all. I did.
Once I started skipping through the park and dancing to the music, I knew I had relaxed into the day and the mass joy.
Indiana Jones was a revelation. Rats and bugs on the wall (my biggest recurring nightmare) and the 6 year old driving our Jeep, screaming and laughing.
Popcorn, candy, lattes and cheese. Cheese is on every dish there.
I let go of the calories at hour three. I held on to each handle bar for dear life.
I laughed like no one was watching and I have the not so flattering pictures to prove it.
I was ten and fat again, 30 and thin and it didn't fucking matter.
The happiest place on earth welcomes and celebrates all.
At 10PM, we were waiting again for Space Mountain. Another hour and a half. Another coastergasm.
My new friend and I wobbled out of the park and we drove home drunk on Disney.
New memories clouded the old. There was no hate, no fat kid, just joy and drunk blissful fun.
We could have been arrested under the influence of joy.
It's possible.

My class today was inspired by the possibility.
The possibility of turning you can't or aren't into you can and you are.
When you are shown, when you can see that it's all out there to be had and done, be in it, with it and have fun with it, scream if you want, you can do it.

When I took a class and was told to go upside down and try this or do that, I didn't care. I was on Space Mountain the day before and flew the trapeze the week before that.

At ten, I couldn't be further from wanting to be in my body or person.
Now, in my 30s I love being here, whether I'm bloated on cheese or not.

If you just try and be and balance on the ledge no matter what you look like, dad, your mat, a net, your teacher or a big old bar on your lap will be there for safety.

I wish I knew that then. I wish I knew that two days ago. I'm so glad I got the chance to go back now.
So I can be here.

I'm a kid again and never want to lose Disneyland, as a yoga student, a teacher and for goodness sake, a human being.

The happiest place on earth is always right there with you, in a park, on the mat, in your car, fat or thin and even with the people you thought didn't like you before.

If yoga doesn't do it for you, go to Disneyland.
There is nothing more pure than that. There are no rules, just safety, just like your yoga class. Get ready for anything. Get ready, be afraid, be open and let go.