"Follow your Gut", my fellow yogi advises me after confessing my predicament: spend my NYE drinking with friends, or ring in 2018 with 108 sun salutations. I know what my gut was telling me: return that sparkly black dress and tell society's standards (that a 24 year old should be out having "fun" on NYE) - to buzz off.
I'd say that two hours of yoga synced to Prince and Whitney Houston was more than fun. It was what my entire 2017 has been leading up to. 2017 was the year of stripping me to my core in the best way possible. It was allowing strangers to see my face make-up free. It was dripping in sweat in a 90 degree yoga studio week after week. It was the year of training: when I intended to deepen my yoga practice, but started my journey sharing yoga with family, strangers, and everyone in between instead. I couldn't think of any other way to "close out 2017" and to reflect on the 364 days that lead me to this moment, than surrounded by this same yogic energy that has carried me through for so long.
I don't have any new years resolutions this year, just gratitude. Thank you to everyone who has supported me in 2017. To my parents, who tried yoga for the first time and accompanied me to Om Street. To my soul friends I met on my first yoga retreat in Panama. To my wonderful, crazy teachers, who constantly encourage me to be myself. And, thank you, my fellow trainees, for opening up your lives to me, and accompanying me on this beautiful yoga journey.