(For background information, I'm still home for Christmas break and decided to go to my first yoga class in a longgggg time. I'm in love with my yoga studio at home, and I constantly (inwardly) complain about how I will never find another Body Language anywhere else I choose to live.)
The first thing I do when I step into the warm waiting area is slowly take off my coat and boots. My bare feet touch the floor, and it's not even slightly cold, but it's still invigorating. There are others waiting for my class - others that will join me in breathing, living, and working in solidarity together - all of them silently whispering to each other, so as not to disturb the massage and yoga class in session. The door opens finally and people begin to greet one another. I stay silent and move into the much more warm yoga room. You can't even tell the yoga studio is located on the side of a very busy intersection because it is completely silent in the room except for the relaxing sanskrit mantra playing from the CD player. I lay out my mat, straighten it out, and lay. First on my back, eyes closed, hands folded on my chest and breath. Then I hug my legs into my belly and rock back and forth, massaging my spine. The instructor turns on the space heaters, making the room even more hot and I can already feel my muscles becoming more and more ready to stretch and work.
Finally, everyone is ready and seated, laying, stretching on their mats. My eyes stay shut, I'm not even the slightest bit self-conscious, and I notice it. (That's a first.) The instructor begins to speak, tells us to meditate. That many people choose to separate yoga from meditation, and that's simply impossible. Yoga is meditation, and so that is how we will begin. She tells a story about our minds and how completely cluttered they always are and that this practice should help us to stop thinking about our minds, and focus on our bodies, come into our bodies. I find this liberating and erotic, as escaping my mind has always been one of the hardest things for me to do - inhibiting me way too many times in my almost 21 years. She ends by saying, "sometimes, it's good to lose your mind." I giggle in my head, but oops, not in my head, out loud. That's okay, I'm so relaxed and happy I don't even care. Finally we begin the vinyasa flow. A breath-timed transition from pose to pose as we stretch, lift, and strengthen all parts of our bodies. I start to lose count of how many times I've completed the flow and scold myself for keeping count. I take a deep exhale and forget. The first drop of sweat falls into my tear duct, stinging my eyes, and I smile. The instructor has been talking the entire time, but she's getting more and more passionate and so I listen closer. She starts talking about how we are just bathing ourselves in self-love, and my heart flutters. I close my eyes and focus on my face, "I love you, face." Then my neck, "I love you, neck." Then my chest, "I love you, chest." Then my arms, "I love you, arms." My hands, my fingers, "I love you." My belly, my legs, my feet, my toes, "I love you too." I feel a little silly saying these things to myself, but as I feel out each part of my body, I notice the sweat covering them and I really do feel as if I am bathing in my own love for myself. It feels damn good. By now I'm sweating so much, and feeling so much that I can't tell which salty drop of wet is sweat, tears, or snot. I don't think I'm crying, but by now, who knows.
I open my eyes for the first time in what I would guess to be 20 minutes, the first thing I see is a 40-something year old woman, fit as ever, stretching her arms up to the sky. I can almost feel her self-love, and I suddenly feel connected to everyone in the room. I listen to everyone else's breath and realize we are breathing at the same rhythm. All of humanity is connected, and tonight I know that's true. We continue this for a long time, and by the time we switch to balancing exercises my legs feel like rubber and I'm light-headed. I head for the water bottle many times during this period. I start to scold myself for not being able to do some of the poses and then I remember the key rule of yoga, do it at your pace, and do what feels best and right for your own body. I praise myself for drinking water. I don't even feel full of myself for it.
We continue with inversions,
more balancing,
more vinyasa,
more
and more
and more
and sweat is absolutely covering me. I touch my foot to the floor while in pigeon pose and it slides across the wood floor of it's own accord. I feel as if we have just started our rest and meditation period, and it's already time for it to end. I know I look a complete wreck, and I've never felt so beautiful. As sweat falls from my face to my mat, I tell myself, "this is for you. for all you've done, and all you haven't done. I love you." It doesn't feel like 10 minutes has passed but it has and it's time to awaken from the meditation state. Before sitting up to end the practice, we roll over onto our side like babies and then sit back up in prayer position. The instructor talks and I feel like she's speaking straight to me. "Let go of your worries, and bask in yourself. The light in me bows in gratitude to the lights in all of you. Namaste." Namaste.
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