After Yoga…

Today, after yoga,
I am stronger. I feel taller. I drove slower.
I gave a large handful of change to a homeless man selling the paper.
I took my dog for an extra long walk.
I got off the couch to greet my husband.
I cooked dinner with love.
I listened a little longer and with more intention.
I feel healthier.
I let someone go in front of me in the grocery line.
My thoughts complained less.
I went out of my way for my husband.
I am calmer.
I am happy.
I talked to a stranger.
I did more for those I love.

Through the Haze of Cough Medicine

This past week, I have been living in a haze of cough medicine, Nyquil, stress and anxiety. I break down and start crying over small things and back off when things don’t go smoothly; everything seems too chaotic and overwhelming. My mind races with worries of anything negative I can conjure up. I am insecure and self-conscious. I don’t want to talk and nothing can hold my attention.

But tonight I am going to Lululemon for “Vino and Vinyasa.” As much as I want to stay home curled up in the darkness, I am going to a yoga social gathering. Of, course I am going with a friend, of the friend variety that I would not have to talk to if I did not feel like talking.

The DJ began mixing records as the tight space filled up with mats lined across the retail floor of the store. “It’s hard not to shop while you’re sitting on your mat.,” the girl in front of me said, looking at a tank top dangling above my head. The evening’s ambiance is of a church youth group gathering mixed with the memory of me as a child yearning so badly to crawl through and hide in the racks of clothing throughout department stores, topped off with some good wine and friendly people.

“Let’s kick this shit,” the yoga instructor announces as he leads us into our first pose of the evening. As we all lowered into chaturanga, the DJ plays music that sounded more like groans of pleasure than music. I am almost certain there is someone on the other side of the room having sex as the instructor walks through our mats speaking words of spiritual wisdom. Throughout the night, my arms and legs repeatedly ended up in the rack of clothes I am practicing next to. My body feels light and strong. Despite the unique nature of the night, my heart is lighter and lighter, so much so that I no longer yearn for the darkness of a corner.

I think I have found the perfect cocktail for anxiety, stress and illness.

Yoga Community

The atmosphere surrounding anything I do always plays a major role in whether I continue to come back. As I immerse myself in different sports and groups of people, I always subconsciously, whether I like it or not, evaluate my experience based on the ambiance of the community of people it involves. For the last couple months, I have been mulling over in my head, exactly how I feel about the yoga community. As I have been searching out a new yoga studio, my thoughts on this subject have been more negative than positive.

Upon much reflection of my feelings, it seems to this yogini that the social construct of the yoga community is complex, simply because it is not as easy to get to know people with whom you put your mat down beside. Yoga’s mat practice is a self-centered practice.  Though it makes it harder to get to know those around you, this characteristic is not necessarily negative-your mat practice is meant to be yours; it is meant to be personal. My mat practice is where I refuel and recharge in order to give back to the rest of the world. But, unless I decide to linger where I take my shoes off before I enter the studio, I tend not talk to anyone I practice beside.

I have to believe, however, that beyond the silence and perceived stoicism of a mat practice, the yoga community is kind, welcoming and friendly, simply based on why I come to my mat. I come to my mat to connect with the universe. I practice yoga to hear the hum of something higher than myself, to calm and center myself-in order that I will drive slower, be kinder, give more, and perhaps have a better understanding of this life and our world. I tend to think that this is why the majority of others practice too. Maybe I should hang out by the shoes more often-perhaps I should get to know the guy who always practices in his boxer briefs, or meet the one other girl with dreadlocks at the studio, or talk to the woman who always places her mat at the back of the room, against the wall.

Awkward Moments

I plopped my mat beside a woman-black capris, black tank top, purple mat. We start our vinyasa practice and slide into twisted crescent lunge. The woman wobbles, grunts, and makes uncomfortable rumblings to herself. We ascend back to crescent lunge and then flow into Warrior III. Again, she stumbles, grunts around, and then look at me, her eyes pleading, “Help! I feel like an idiot.” Her eyes had the same expression that my traumatic brain injury patient looked at me with as my patient laid in bed, projectile vomiting, unable to communicate her problem. I simply smiled at the woman who was flailing around on her mat. The class, in unison, turned to face the sidewall and we bowed down into wide-legged forward bend. As gravity pulled this same woman down toward her mat, her feet teetered and slid back closer to the back edge of her mat-with each stumble her spandexed ass crept closer to my face. I looked between my legs, closed my eyes and thought of a happy place. At the close of our practice, we laid back in a reclining twist. The class was full, mats were tight, and her arms hovered directly over my body. Her arms shook as she held them suspended above my torso, oblivious to the rest of the class positioning their arms above their heads on the ground, in order to avoid hitting the person next to them. I am wondering now, should I have said something to this woman so she would not violate the person beside her in her next yoga class? I am glad to have had the opportunity to practice yoga next to this woman, but displeased with myself for not having found some way to make her feel more welcomed and understand the practice.