I’ve had a really busy week. It involved cramming four days of work into one day–today. I ran around this morning not very like a Buddhist monk with her head cut off.
By the time I got to yoga class at noon, I was disappointed with myself and my roller coaster relationship with the world. This is no time for me to be social.
But. But it is my only chance to get to class this week, unless I can find one while traveling over the next few days. And it’s a drag chanting om by myself.
So I climb the stairs, get changed, and put a mat down. I don’t look at anyone. Class starts, I hang over my feet, and I breathe. I can’t tell you how this saves me on a day like this. Before too long I look at my teacher, I begin to smile at the way his count of 5 is far more like 39, and I hear the breathing all around me.
Toward the end of class, we’re in a sitting spinal twist. I’m enjoying it. It’s easier than it was last week. I glance up and meet the eyes of the woman on the next mat.
“Turn the other way,” she says.
“What?”
“You’re turned the wrong way,” she whispers.
She has no idea how right she is. I turn the other way and find the twist exactly as difficult as it was last week. Then I take a second to glance around the room at these people who are kind enough to share a room with strangers in the pursuit of something kinder, stronger, and more flexible than the rest of the day. And I belt out om like my life depends on it when class ends.
Thanks to my neighbor for turning me around and thanks to you for the conversation.