my story on ashtanga yoga & recovery + trini foundation
Ashtanga yoga has been pivotal in my life over the past eight years. I would never have entered the recovery space without first being introduced to yoga, meditation, and the contemplative path. Now I’ve got an opportunity to help support the Trini Foundation.
Trini Foundation is dedicated to helping people with substance use disorders find long-term recovery by building environments of physical, mental, and spiritual support through integrating recovery services with Ashtanga yoga and mindfulness practices.
What follows is an excerpt from the personal statement I wrote when I applied to law school, background on the Trini Foundation, and a message from the founder and executive director, Taylor Hunt.
Law School Personal Statement
As I sweat out last night’s alcohol, I knew my partying days were numbered. It’s been a month since I started practicing Ashtanga yoga. At twenty-six, I was preparing to leave the army with my life largely a façade. Though I graduated from West Point and Ranger School and I successfully led an infantry platoon in Afghanistan, my life was in disarray. My drinking led to six arrests, my doctor wanted me on blood pressure and cholesterol medications, and my relationships were in shambles. So as I struggled through that Sunday morning yoga practice, I knew I had to change.
I grew up on Bill O’Reilly and Rush Limbaugh. I had learned that people who committed crimes were criminals, that people who were homeless made bad decisions, and that people who worked hard were guaranteed success. That’s how I thought it worked, even though I was a walking contradiction. Though a mediocre student, I was admitted to West Point because I grew up playing tennis at a high level. Though I barely graduated, I received my branch of choice—infantry. If I got arrested, I got it expunged. I never understood my privilege.
My family has always loved and supported me, yet I struggled with depression and alcohol abuse. Most, if not all, of my accomplishments, were the product of those that came before me. I’ve had many opportunities to create a life of value—opportunities that many will never receive. Unfortunately, I was too self-absorbed to appreciate my privilege. I was only concerned with moving on to bigger and better things. I no longer cling to a grandiose notion of what my life should entail; instead, I yearn for a life of service. I want to solve problems, fight injustices, and give others second chances, which I can do through the practice of law. For years I attributed my run-ins with trouble as a byproduct of my intense, work-hard-play-hard mentality. Waking up in jail or stranded on the side of the road hadn’t been enough to convince me that I was on the wrong path. Thankfully, Ashtanga yoga has been my catalyst for personal development.
Unlike most yoga in the West, Ashtanga is more than an exercise class. Practitioners are taught one posture at a time, and a student only receives a new posture when he or she can do the previous posture. Practitioners perform the same series of postures six days a week, first thing in the morning. Ashtanga serves as both a mirror and a microscope. Daily practice teaches you how your choices affect your mind and body on and off the mat. While Ashtanga first targets the gross, physical body, over time, it targets increasingly subtle aspects of the practitioner’s body and mind.
Initially, Ashtanga provided a recovery plan—a system to get my life on track. When I started practicing, I was a 210-pound power-lifter who drank a fifth of vodka and chewed a can of tobacco each day. After a few weeks, I could touch my toes, and after a few months, I could twist and balance in previously unimaginable ways. The physical progress motivated me to make behavioral changes. Instead of partying until the early morning, I stayed in, learned to cook, and focused on my health. After three months, I had lost thirty pounds; I had quit chewing tobacco; I had quit abusing alcohol, and my doctor was no longer concerned with my health. Progressing on the mat requires an increased understanding of physical subtleties; likewise, the work off of the mat becomes increasingly subtle. After my initial behavioral changes, the work became internal.
The purpose of yoga is to stop the fluctuations of the mind. To do so, one must work hard to view the world clearly and without conditioning. For years I judged myself by my intentions while I judged others by their actions. When I was rejected from my top five law schools, I recognized that my reality was skewed—I could no longer hide from my past. Growing up in an ultra-conservative town has significantly impacted my personal development. I wore a Bush-Cheney sign to school during the Florida recount, I thought climate change was a hoax, and that the government should do little besides protect property rights and provide national defense. Though my views are now the opposite, I prefer not to stay in any bubble, whether liberal or conservative. Through a daily yoga practice, I have learned to question everything—my beliefs and, more importantly, the underlying assumptions based on those beliefs. Just as I cannot credit myself with my accomplishments, I cannot attribute others’ failures solely to their values or work ethic. Because it took a village to raise me, I owe it to others to provide a support they may not receive at home.
About the Trini Foundation:
“Trini Foundation is dedicated to helping people with substance use disorders find long-term recovery by building environments of physical, mental, and spiritual support through integrating recovery services with Ashtanga yoga and mindfulness practices.”
A Message from Trini’s Founder and Executive Director, Taylor Hunt
“There was a time when I was ashamed of my story. I didn’t share it with others outside of the recovery community because I didn’t believe my past fit the mold of who a yoga teacher is supposed to be. What would others in the yoga community think of me if they knew that I struggled with alcoholism and drug addiction for a decade? In the midst of my addiction, I lacked any true human connection and lived in complete isolation as I stood at the brink of death every single day.
It was only during my fourth stay in a treatment center that I was finally brought to my knees and became willing to accept a plan for recovery. As I struggled to get sober, I slowly regained my will to live. I caught a glimmer of hope and suddenly understood that I had been given a chance to put my life back together. I fully committed myself to the twelve steps of recovery, even though nothing about that process was easy. I had to become humble enough to admit my mistakes and do the difficult work of cleaning up my past. The gift I received from that work, in addition to a sober life, was the embrace of a community of caring individuals who were willing to accept me for exactly who I was.
Early in my sobriety, a friend invited me to attend her yoga class. I was reluctant, but she persisted until I finally agreed. My sponsor told me it would be part of my eleventh step work, which involves prayer and meditation. Once I began practicing Ashtanga yoga, things changed for me. I released the self-hate that had plagued me for years and gained a new sense of acceptance and self-worth. I felt more compassion for myself and for others. I quickly understood that yoga offered me a pathway toward physical, emotional, and spiritual healing. I never looked back.
As I learned more about yoga, I discovered that the principles of recovery and the principles of Ashtanga yoga are highly complementary to each other. Combined, they provide an effective tool for self-transformation. Because my life has been profoundly affected by yoga, I want to share the practice with as many people as possible. I am no longer ashamed of my story. The more I talk with others about it, the more I realize that we have all struggled with something. I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to struggle alone. I established the Trini Foundation as a way to introduce the healing practice of Ashtanga to people recovering from substance use disorder. I believe in the transformational power of the practice and that everyone can begin a new chapter in their own stories.”
Please consider donating to the Trini Foundation here.
