Near the end of a yoga class last week, as we pressed our bodies up into Pigeon pose, the right knee bent and the left leg stretched out long behind us, one of my students declared: "Doing Pigeon is like eating candy."
We all laughed, taking delight in the analogy and enjoying the deep stretch of the hip. We knew exactly what she meant.
That is how good Pigeon feels at the end of a yoga class, when the muscles are warm and loose, the hard work is done and the mind is finally freed of all clutter.
The comment also led me to think of the transformation taking place every day, several times a day, when I teach yoga.
People of all ages, shapes, levels of fitness, and walks of life — they wander into the studio, shedding winter clothes and the myriad details of their day. For 45 minutes they turn off the busy thoughts and turn their focus inward to body and breath.
At least, that is the intention.
Every day, all day, our minds are racing to the task at hand or any number of burdens demanding resolution. Sure, a good workout helps to cope with the chaos. The physical effort mixed with the escape does wonders for both body and mind.
But, the good time ends. Re-entry into reality — like coming home to South Dakota from a January vacation in Mexico — can be brutal and shocking.
The peaceful bliss can disintegrate in the amount of time it takes to go from one side of the door to the other.
Yoga, on the other hand, smooths out the edges and instills a more lasting calm. I'm not completely certain why and I haven't conducted scientific research to back up my claim, but I think it's because yoga forces us to shut everything out, even if it is for only 45 minutes.
Unlike a run or a swim or a bike ride, when we are constantly feeding on the incoming stimuli of the world around us, yoga is fully and completely about us and all that is within. We breathe. We stretch. We align the body.
In the time span of one class, nothing else matters. There is no judgment — no fast or slow, no good or bad, no extra pounds, no ugly body parts, no unpaid bills, no complicated relationships, nothing to cook for dinner, no laundry to put away.
Perhaps the best part is in the last five minutes of class, when we lay down on our mats, the lights out, we close our eyes, listen to the music and think solely about each breath as it comes in and out of the body.
Each breath only here for a moment and then replaced by another new breath. It is hypnotic, spellbinding and almost a little mind boggling. How often do we actually stop and pay attention to the one thing — the breath — that gives us life; the one thing that allows us to do all that we do? Never.
Oddly, it takes time and practice to slow down to a pace of such nothingness, when the breaths flow in and out as if they were waves lapping at the shoreline.
But, once we ease into the comfort of being alone, quiet and content within ourselves, the feeling never completely leaves us. And, returning to that place becomes increasingly natural and constant.
People tell me I'm crazy to teach 10 yoga classes every week. Honestly, I think they're crazy not to.
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