Home

One of my dearest friends had a confession.  We were gathered at my son’s high school graduation party many years ago when she sat down next to me.  “I need to tell you something,” she said.  I was preparing for the worst. 

“I am cheating on you.”

I was confused.  Our friendship, which is part of a cohort of women, does not get jealous when a few of the 7 do something outside of the group.

“I have been going to yoga.  Not at your studio.”

Before I had a chance to respond, she started telling me the location of the studio, that it is within walking distance of her home, that is has nothing to do with my teachings…..etc., etc.,  Creating responses for my questions that never came.  Instead….

I smiled and said, “You found your yoga home.”

She was relieved that I was not upset.  How could I be?  When you have found your place you know.  It clicks.  (not to say that I don’t love it when I see close friends and family show up in my classes….)

I remember in my early days of practicing yoga  I did everything possible to not go into a studio.  I read books on yoga, trying to create my own practice.  Found DVDs and used them while in my living room.  Each attempt left me feeling flat.  I could very easily skip past the poses I didn’t want to do, and then divert completely to something other than yoga – such as cleaning the kitchen or folding laundry.

But walking into an unknown yoga space is not easy.  For introverts it is a nightmare.  You will see people sitting quietly in meditation.  You will see students chatting with others.  You will hear laughter.  You will feel the rushed anxiety of others who are bound and determined to hurry to relaxation, gathering their props, fretting over the position of their mat, wondering if the instructor is going to adjust the temperature of the room.  You will witness established groups of friends (most who met in the studio) bringing a lot of energy in the room.  You will get an intuitive hit on someone who does not want to be bothered.  You will listen to a student discussing an injury with an instructor.  You will see people of all shapes and sizes, color and ethnicity, young and old, beginner to experienced. Everyone is here.

And you have to find your way.

But we are all craving connection.  Take a walk through any space (outside a studio) and you will see people looking down at their smart phone.  Contact with others is now via text or social media, with face-to-face connection waning.

I see students retreating to the back of the practice space.  Or near a wall (me!).  Or finding themselves right in the thick of the group.  Each has their own comfort zone.  Their place that settles them (or not, depending if you got to class on time).

I watch new students to my class who may also be new to yoga, glancing around as we sit in meditation at the beginning of the class.  Wondering what to do, even though I am guiding them through.  I get to witness them slowly sink into the space and be present.

As class moves forward, everyone in their own head space as they move through asanas, there will be a shift.  I am still cueing and my playlist is accompanying my sequence.  Then this happens:  each student is in sync, flowing in and out of poses as if we rehearsed the timing perfectly.  But we didn’t.  The collective energy of the room took over, infusing into each student an intuitive rhythm.  It is electric.  You feel the shift encompassing the practice space.  I am honored to be a witness.

This energy, this group dynamic, overflows into Savasana.  The rise and fall of the chest and belly as one goes deeper into relaxation creates another group rhythm, ever so subtle.  You have to look closely to see it.

As class ends, and the students are putting away props, you can feel the connection between them, even if unspoken. 

This is the most valuable result of yoga.