A Safe Place on the South Side
- Lauren Gonzalez
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
Yesterday, I led the inaugural veteran's class in our new South Side Studio yoga yurt. It was 1,000 different kinds of awesome. No distracting gym background noise - just the chirping of starlings, a gentle breeze whispering outside the walls, and the rhythmic sound of eight humans breathing through a deep stretching series. This setting created the exact sort of peaceful, private environment I'd searched for long and hard, determined to establish a space where veterans (and all yogis) can feel safe.
The experience was nothing short of beautiful, not just because of the new digs, but also because of the people around me. Some of these were vets I'd known, off and on, since I first arrived in Montana 13 years ago. These are guys I used to party with, making memories the cheap way: through large quantities of hard liquor and the type of loud-mouthed, ill-advised hijinx pretty typical of a late twenty-something male trying to find freedom through forgetting.
We all had our dramas. Our failures. Our petty feuds. We thrived on them. Eventually, they drove us apart, each to our separate corners of town. We became hermits and hellraisers on our own terms, making villains out of each other based on old stories and patterns kept alive by our own seething imaginations. Enemies bred in isolation. We didn't want to know the real human behind the cardboard cut-out. We each had our walls up, and the fabricated version of each other kept us safe from the acknowledgement that maybe the enemy wasn't out there but in here.
Time made fathers of many of us. Some dark nights and rock bottoms led us to our various breaking points. We got sober, trading alcohol for hobbies, husband duties, and occasional therapy. Day by day, one misstep and course correction after another, we became family men. We bought houses, learned garment design, built greenhouses, taught yoga, remodeled bathrooms, rock climbed, tended plants, traveled. We tried out new hobbies that developed into full-blown passions, getting brave enough to try on new versions of ourselves until we found one we could be proud of.
Then, we found each other. Turns out, behind all of those tequila shots, beer, and hangovers were some quality characters. Almost ten years later, we'd finally stopped hiding and avoiding the hard things long enough to actually connect on a deeper level. After all, we had a lot in common. We'd found the light beyond so much deep darkness, each in our own way. There's a special bond that forms with people who knew you at your worst and are still around to see you at your best. It's the sweetest kind of do-over.
The South Side Studio is my dream version of life after combat. It's my second chance, of which I've had so many, to redefine myself and use my gifts to establish community, rather than tearing it apart. And in this new future, I'm grateful to sit side-by-side with these battle buddies who refuse to give up in the persistent fight to keep our darkest parts from winning. For me, yoga is a big part of that. I'm just glad I get to share it with people I consider heroes - and anyone in our beloved Missoula community looking to push themselves beyond former limits into new territory of growth and potential.
You are unique. You are loved. And you have a purpose.