Music

Certain songs carry me back.

Without a second thought, a song can make me remember a time, a place, a person, a feeling.

Music does this.

It brings memories to mind in an instant, measuring out segments of times long thought forgotten. 

I think music is what got me hooked on yoga in the first place.

Not every yoga class has music, but I was fortunate enough to start at a studio that was somehow plugged into my playlist. 

Elton John. Van Morrison. Bob and Damien Marley. Eric Clapton. The Beatles. Seal. And more.

Since the time I was little, I have always loved music, and I have never really started a day without it. Like most of us, I seem to have a soundtrack that marks time from my childhood into my adulthood.

In elementary school, I would put my transistor radio in the basket of my bicycle and spend hours working on drawings of the album covers of Elton John and the Beatles. I awoke to music every morning on my clock radio and, every night, I played records on my stereo, a gift from my parents for my eleventh birthday.

My first loves were Michael Jackson and Donny Osmond, both of whom I plastered on my walls before graduating to David Cassidy whose picture I proudly carried on my lunch box.

In one of my yoga classes early on, one song played, and I called out, Fifth Grade!

Led Zeppelin, The Who, Queen and Peter Frampton formed the backdrop to my middle school years and boys and dances, and songs from Chicago, Boston, Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles are forever embedded in my brain from my time on my high school Pom Pom squad.

Cat Stevens and Jimmy Buffet joined me at the beach during my college years; Diana Ross was the envy of all my sorority sisters, and I remember exactly where I was when Michael Jackson did his moonwalk. There was never a time that we got ready to go out without Michael, Earth Wind and Fire or the Commodores on the turntable.

Early on, I did some public relations for the yoga studio, and I was putting pen to paper for a press release. As part of this, I asked my instructor what would appeal about yoga to those who might not buy into the spiritual side.

Don’t you feel good from the workout and the music? That feeling is spiritual, too, he said.

My children grew up listening to so much of my music, and me to theirs. 

My son had his tonsils out, and we all were in the house for a week during his recovery with Hootie and the Blowfish playing every day for seven days straight.

We called Van Morrison our company music, and played it every time we had people over for dinner. It was such a staple that I sent my daughter to college with the soundtrack in case she got homesick.

I still make my kids crazy with $20 bets to see if they can guess the artist playing on the radio and even made one such bet with my daughter during our first private yoga session when Into the Mystic came on by Van Morrison.

We spent hours and hours listening to music while doing arts and crafts at the kitchen table and, to this day, Paul Simon’s Graceland CD is forever linked to my daughter’s first store order when we played it repeatedly while beading 90 necklaces by lantern light during a storm when the power went out.

My son seems to have my same love of music but has a playlist 100 times longer. Often, I call to tell him what song is on the radio, and he sends me names of songs and singers he thinks I will like.

Check out Michael Franti, one such text said.

Already familiar, I just texted back, Say Hey, I Love You!

And when Michael Jackson died, I was overcome with a surprising sadness, because it was larger for me than just losing him. He had lost me for awhile, but once I lost him, I returned, buying up a bunch of his music. It was like part of my history was gone, and I wanted it back.

These days, if I try another yoga class, something is usually missing, and it is often the music. 

To begin our yoga class, my instructor turns on the music and announces the opening pose. 

The other morning, it was Child’s Pose. I placed my knees on either side of the mat, put my forehead down and stretched my arms forward, dropping my heart. He lowered the lights, and the music began to play.

I cannot really explain it further, but my mind instantly settled as the music filled the room.

I inhaled deeply and let it fill me, too.

Beginning

It was the end of October, the days were getting shorter, darkness falling earlier and earlier. 

 

This is usually the start of a sort of hibernation for me, driving home from work in the crisp and cold with the 6 p.m. stars already shining. 

 

Not really the time of year to embark on any sort of change. 

 

During this time, I am not sure what made me finally take action on what had been sitting on the floor of my car, among so many other things: A flyer for the new yoga studio less than a mile from my home. 

 

I looked at the schedule, chose a class, called a friend and showed up. 

 

This was a very big deal for me, never having been a big exerciser and never having joined a gym. 

 

I arrived at the studio equipped with the following inexperience: A few yoga classes with my daughter once upon a time, dance classes at summer camp many moons earlier and, in another lifetime, dancing on my middle and high school Pom Pon squads.
 

I felt at ease right away. 

 

The music started, and we all stood at the top of our mats. 

 

The music, my music of Paul Simon, Bob Marley, Elton John and more, filled the room as the instructor took us through flows of poses and took the time to walk around the room and adjust our positions. 

 

The studio was warm, both the atmosphere and the temperature, the rubber mat seemed to anchor me to the wood floor, and the mirror at the front of the room reflected the class moving at all levels but somehow together. 

 

Something in me connected to the music and the long ago dance lessons, and the flow and instruction had a hypnotizing effect. 

 

I was hooked. 

 

Eager to come back, the only time outside the weekend that allowed for my full time work schedule was at 6 a.m. 

 

I peeled myself out of bed the following Monday morning, still not believing what I was doing, had a little coffee and drove to the studio. 

 

Crisp and cold with the 6 a.m. stars now shining, I showed up for class and became a regular. 

 

Now, yoga has become a huge part of my life. 

 

Just like every day is a bit different, so is every practice. 

 

I have discovered that yoga has the power to change my mood, my outlook, my body, my life. 
 

Its impact has been nothing short of marvelous, offering up surprising discoveries and interesting insights at a point in my life where I thought I had it all figured out. 

 

Turns out, the learning had only just begun.