Wow.
I have to admit I’ve been a bit frustrated lately. Class after class, I’ve shown up early to fit in a bit of meditation before teaching, yet each time, and I do mean each time lately, there’s been a huge snag with the room. It’s been occupied, it’s been double-booked, the previous class runs long…
Tonight was different. How? Oh, my friend, do read on.
There are four rooms in which to have a yoga class. One is a fitness room that is a constant 64 degrees, brrr, and the other three are community rooms. Yoga is booked, weekly, in a community room. It seems that we yogis have been forgotten. Tonight, as I arrived my standard 30 minutes early, I notice a martial arts event happening in one community room, an scheduled fitness class in the fitness room, and the remaining two community rooms had been transformed into one, giant, table filled room. There was nothing ready for us, and there was no time to break down the tables and chairs to make room for our class.
So, we went outside. With Carlos Nakai playing the flute on a gentle, warm breeze; infrequent raindrops plopping now and again on yoga mats; and blades of new, green grass poking up through our hands and feet; we practiced yoga together. We chanted, we saluted the setting sun, and we found new ways to balance while touching the cool Earth. We dodged sprinklers, listened to birds, nodded to both the oil rig and the library, and felt the warmth of a budding summer night on our skin.
We laughed together. Our kula attitude was bursting from our hearts. And we practiced non-attachment. Thankfulness. Felt the cool, green love of the Earth. Breathed with a new breath, pulsed with a new heartbeat, and connected.
Funny how much a slender, shoot of green grass can teach me to let go, but at the same time hang on breathlessly for what happens next…
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