Warm

As our teacher led us into Savasana last week, he suggested, as he always does "you may want to put on socks or a blanket or anything else you need to keep your muscles warm during Savasana"

As I heard the click of the portable heater turning on, I remembered a teacher I had studied with a few times in California. He had scorned such practices saying that the heat from ones practice should carry us through Savasana.

As I lay on my mat, toes warmed by socks, snuggled under my cotton yoga blanket I thought "I don't believe that fellow ever practiced in the North East"

[Image pilfered from this very adorable yoga blog]

Whatever comes

This summer my son and I spent a week at a retreat center that offered YOGA EVERY MORNING! The teacher was very clear that this was a gentle yoga class, not really geared toward more experienced practitioners. Undaunted I asked if she would mind if I took a few variations. She said it was fine as long as I set up in the back of the room so as not to confuse folks who were brand new.

The first day of class one practitioner walked out half way through. She later explained that she had a vigorous Vinyasa practice, and had gone to find a quiet room to do her own thing. She seemed a little angry that the class was not what she was used to. She had recently found Vinyasa and loved how it felt to have the strength and warmth that comes from a flowing practice. There was talk among some of us who prefer a vigorous yoga about forming a splinter group and finding our own place to practice.

Next morning I toted my mat back to the gentle class. I snuck in a few chaturangas and a headstand, but mostly I went with the flow. I remember so clearly a time in my practice when I too would have been filled with anger when a class was not vigorous enough. I was so happy to have found a form that helped me develop strength and really challenged my body; I felt like a Power Ranger. By the end of class I was exhausted but calm and centered. What changed? Time I think. I realized there is time for all kinds of yoga. After 10+ years of practice I really get that a week of yoga is just a blink of an eye in a lifetime of practice. I was willing to let go of sun salutations in exchange for a week with a new teacher, and for the camaraderie of a room full of yogis.

One morning the room started leaking and folks in the back row had to move their mats to accommodate buckets which caught rain dripping through the roof. We struggled together to hold our focus through storm-strength winds which slammed doors open and shut. We returned to our mats on days when the sun finally came out and its siren song tried to lure us away from asana out onto the deck.

Personal preferances aside, yoga anchored that week for me; no matter what the rest of any day might bring- it started with yoga.