After almost 20 years of teaching, I got rid of all my yoga notes and books

Yoga books? I gave all mine away. “Ouch,” I thought as I dropped them off at the school where I taught. Heavy yoga teacher training binder? I scanned some pages. Then I threw it. And I felt lighter. My yoga sequences – the vaguely penciled stick figures on dog-eared pages in notebooks with torn edges? These are irreplaceable and non-scannable. But I threw that away too.

Why did I get rid of £30 worth of yoga books and notes? I’m moving from Taos, New Mexico, to London, England, and I’m only taking one suitcase with me. Although I’ve lugged my yoga collection from state to state for the past twenty years, I won’t be taking it across the ocean. It became increasingly clear to me that I couldn’t pack much of it, at least not if I wanted room for clothes or shoes. Although I was sad to say goodbye to the couch, the cactus, and the French press, the hardest thing to say goodbye to was my yoga library.

It wasn’t until I saw the empty shelves in my yoga room that I almost panicked without the few dozen essential books I’d collected over the years: Light on yoga; Hatha Yoga Pradipika; Bhagavad Gita; The heart of yoga; Yoga mind, body and soul; The women’s book about yoga and health; The yoga of the breath; Accessible yoga; Chakra yoga; Teaching trauma-sensitive yoga; The stories behind the poses; Yoga anatomy. I have given some of them to my teacher training students and read them again every year. Others I would consult before devising a home exercise or sequence to teach my classes. I could refer to my books and notes when I wasn’t sure which muscles were contracting or stretching in a pose, or to remind myself of the meaning behind a pose’s name. When I had ideas for lesson themes or sequences, those books had my back.

“England did that librariesI said trying to comfort myself. ‘Or I can buy the books again if I really miss them. I can download digital versions. I can find answers to my burning yoga questions in reliable online sources. I’ll make new notes. Even better notes.” That helped calm my rapid breathing, but only slightly.

If I’m honest, I had held on to my yoga books and notes for so long because I wanted to remember everything in them. There was definitely an element of perfectionism in it; if I knew its contents by heart, I would be qualified to become a yoga instructor, able to answer any question from my students, as well as my own. But I also thought that what was inside was beautiful and wise, and I wanted all that beauty and wisdom—not just at my fingertips, but in my own mind. Suddenly being alone with my yoga practice felt like it had something to teach me about sitting with uncertainty.

In the weeks following my giveaways, as I made farewell visits to family and practiced yoga without books, I realized that my books and notes had influenced me by their very presence. They radiated ‘must’ to me: ‘I should read them again.’ “I have to do things their way.” “I should know more than I do.” They were to-do lists that could never be completely completed. And when I got rid of those to-do lists, I felt liberated and more than a little scared – like I was thrown into the wilderness without a guide.

One thing I have always liked about Patanjali’s The Yoga Sutras– another book I no longer have – is what he defined svadyaya(self-study) as niyama (observation) practiced through both the study of spiritual texts And self-study; I did the former, and now I do the latter. I may not have my books, but I have my spine, my toes and my knees. I have my breath. I have my mind, with all the interesting new swings (fear! excitement! hope!) in it that come from making a big move. I can study this one for a while.

Going bookless is a surrender; It’s finally me admitting that I can’t and don’t want to know all the content by heart… and I’m experimenting with the idea that this is okay. That I know enough to get by, at least for now, that I have absorbed enough of their beauty and wisdom to live on, at least for a little while, and that my devotion to yoga does not depend on – and is not evidenced by – my collection of books and notes.

I trust you, yoga. Trusting that I’ll still have you even when I’ve given everything else away. Get off the pages. Be as expansive as I think you are. Be everywhere.