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The Diary of My Traveling Yoga Pants

This is a guest post by our friend Marina DeLima! Marina is a globetrotting yoga teacher who leads retreats in exotic locations around the world. We are honored to be a part of her journey. 

It’s been 10 months now that I’ve been an official yoga gypsy.

I stuffed my most valued possessions, my favorite sweatshirt, comfy pants, 1 little black dress (just in case), bag of crystals and miniature statues for protection, and over 15 pairs of my Lineagewear Yoga Pants, into my backpack and took off on an adventure toward the unknown.

I joked with my sister while packing that if I got stopped at customs they would immediately think I was trafficking printed lycra.

But I needed to be prepared.

I had no idea when I would be coming back and where the journey of 2 continents, 4 countries, and endless climate changes and time zones would lead me.  

So yes, every pair of Lineage I owned was an absolute, non-negotiable necessity.

Choosing to be a full-time yoga teacher makes wearing loud printed stretchy pants perfectly acceptable 356 day of the year.

My yoga pants are my business attire, they’re part of my identity.

My yoga pants give me a sense of comfort and connection to home.

In each unfamiliar city, in each foreign country, I feel a sense of security every time I pull the colorful soft materials out of my backpack.

My yoga pants are conversations starters.

Whether it’s a new student taking a yoga class I’m teaching, or a stranger at a coffee shop, I often hear, “Those are great pants. Who makes them?”

I proudly tell the lycra admirers how a friend of mine from New Jersey is the mastermind behind the one of a kind creation.

My yoga pants hold me accountable to where I am in my daily yoga practice.

My yoga pants have witnessed sunrises in Morocco and rode a camel across the endless dunes of the Sahara Desert.  

My yoga pants have watched sunsets in Bali and dove into mediation and the sea in Goa, India.

My yoga pants have hiked Sarangkot, Nepal to witness the splendor of the Himalayas.

My yoga pants have trekked over 8,000 feet to a lost Incan City in Machu Picchu, Peru.

My yoga pants rode deep into a muddy and remote Nicaraguan Village to teach yoga and English to local children.

My yoga pants have scaled cliffs along the coast of Lisbon, Portugal and gotten wine-drunk at the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

My yoga pants have felt my sweat, my tears, my tribulations and my triumphs.

My yoga pants have seen me let go of everything I was to become the woman I am.

My yoga pants have watched me fall in love.  

marina france

And each time I leave behind the city that has become my home, and the people that have become my friends, I know I carry those once-in-a lifetime moments in my memory, in my heart, and with my traveling yoga pants.

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