I am a suburbanite but have found
some classes downtown and, in the evening when there is no traffic, I can zip
down there fairly quickly.
The studio is hot, the people are warm, and the energy is high. I love stepping in.
But, the other night, the road
was literally blocked, and I had to take a detour.
Why am I doing this? I asked myself.
Instead of coming up with an
answer, a calmness settled in, and I turned on the radio and took the alternate
route.
I arrived at the cash-only
parking lot with 15 minutes to spare before realizing I had left my cash at
home.
Why
am I doing this? I
asked myself again.
But the attendant was kind, saw
my yoga mat on my back and told me about the nearby ATM, first asking if getting
cash would make me late for class.
Again, a calmness settled in, and
I said, No worries, I have time.
I do not know from where the
evening’s calmness came, but I had apparently left the house with it. Ordinarily,
I would have been frustrated by the small hiccups encountered thus far.
I finally stepped into the
studio, put up my hair and laid out my mat in the front of the room. I am sort
of claustrophobic, and it helps not to have the crowd in front of me.
Shortly before the class starts,
I turn around. The room is packed, mostly with college students from the nearby
university.
Why
am I doing this? I
asked myself again.
I said to the man next to me, This room is so young! A few minutes
passed before he leaned over and whispered back, You
are still not as old as me!
And with those encouraging words,
the practice began.
The instructor was generous and engaging
and motivating, and the practice was vigorous. At the end, that same calmness
washed over me.
And now I think I finally
understand about the practice creating space.
For me, and on that night in particular, the physical workout of yoga seems to create an opening inside, and I am left in Savasana, or final resting pose, with a feeling like I have been smoothed out, almost like a chalkboard with the scribbles now erased.
The instructor gave a reading while we lay there at the end, and I cannot for the life of me remember the details. I only remember that I liked hearing the words, and that they were words of kindness and support.
I just laid there at the end on
my mat with an immense and unexpected gratitude. And that is what filled the space
created by the practice.
Afterward, the man next to me leaned
over again and said, See? You are younger
now!
I am thinking he must have felt it, too!
It occurred to me that gratitude
might well be like feeling younger, like opening to a time when optimism and
hopefulness ruled the day.
The studio was just about empty,
and so I moved my mat to the wall to practice a handstand before leaving.
I pressed my hands to the mat and
lifted one leg and then the other into the strongest handstand I have had in some
time. I locked in my core and stretched my body upwards towards the ceiling.
And there, upside down, a calmness settled in, and I
experienced that same immense and unexpected gratitude.
Shortly after, I packed it up and
took that gratitude home for safekeeping.
What a beautiful post!
ReplyDeleteI don't think I have ever regretted going to a yoga class, no matter how I felt before the class began :) I think that's what makes me return to the mat again and again and again.
Thank you, Hui!
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