This, too, is Yoga by Lexie Wolf
Last week I found myself on a picture-perfect mountain, on a just-right hike, on a gorgeous day. I felt that precious sense of wholeness and presence, so present that I noticed myself being present and gave myself a little pat on the back. Watching the trees and sky, watching my breath as I huffed and puffed up the mountain, chatting with Bill here and there, taking in the beauty of it all and feeling like part of it. Gratitude welled up for the simple gift of being there — breathing, moving, alive, connected, whole.
Yoga!
The next day I dropped into a Vin Flow class at the Bellingham Yoga Collective, which felt so good after the long hike. I always love visiting other studios. Of course, my brain didn’t totally cooperate – does it ever? I spent part of class counting mats (24 at least — impressive!), noting that the “heated” class wasn’t actually heated (hmph), evaluating the instructor’s query about hands-on assists (a little ambiguous?), and deciding I didn’t like their bathroom flier strategy. In between these fascinating thought forms, I’d remember and return — breath, body, movement.
Yes, yoga. I do so love yoga asana.
I was looking forward to snoozing my way home on the late night flight from Seattle to Raleigh. Instead, Classroom Earth offered up some lessons in patience. I sat next to a three-year-old who squirmed and whined and kicked me with his little light-up Spiderman sneakers the second I nodded off. There were a couple of full-body tantrums too, just for good measure. Mom was trying so hard but they’d just flown in from Taiwan and the poor kid was cooked. I smiled, reassured her, and tried as hard as I could to convey kindness — though I’ll be honest, I wasn’t feeling kind during many moments of that flight. I spent a lot of those 5+ hours breathing. But also reflecting about the work involved in creating other humans. Oh my goodness there is nothing like it.
Definitely, and very much, Yoga.
I’ve written versions of “it’s all yoga” before, but I’ll say it again because it’s true. The mountain hike, the fascinating thought forms, the tantrum at 30,000 feet, and on and on. As long as I am aware that it is happening, it feels like Yoga to me. Awareness lets the peaks and valleys, the detours and dissonances, the rhythms and flows all belong to the present moment. My practice is to notice when I’ve drifted off into unconsciousness and try to gently shorten the time I spend sleepwalking. When I’m aware, even in the hard moments, I’m not lost. For that, I am so grateful to the practice.
