Breath Everywhere: Life as a Yogini

Slate.com has a series called "Blogging the Bible" where the author reviews a short passage each day and adds some commentary or at least paraphrases what happened using modern language. I've only looked at it a few times, because it doesn't seem that insightful or even that witty.

But I imagine my yoga musings are similar; like the Slate blogger, I'm uneducated to the topic and likely missing the point. But it's an honest attempt, nonetheless.

Our zealous instructor this Sunday was full of quips and one liners - likely because he had just returned from a yoga retreat in Cancun (oh c'mon!). To give you a taste, for example, he said we were supposed to dedicate our practice to someone we love and think of that person when the class was difficult and we wanted to quit. Which I think is a wonderful idea, but then he added, "…if you just want to get fit, join a gym." Which annoyed me, because that's probably the majority of the class, at least to some extent, and it's not like, people are gonna say, "well that's me and just get up and leave" and besides that, I think health is a pretty good reason to workout....whatever, I just thought presenting the idea with a little more subtlety could have given it a better effect. But, ego aside, he did deliver at least one particularly lovely line.

Anyone who's ever been to a yoga class or read Siddhartha by Herman Hesse knows the most fundamental part of yoga is the breath; the idea being to maintain a steady breath throughout all the poses and movements; even the really uncomfortable poses and even the really exhausting movements. So, it's not uncommon for an instructor to remind you to breathe when you're in a difficult part of the class, because for whatever reason, when the going gets tough, the tough start holding their breath.

I for one, really enjoy the simple breathing exercises in yoga, and remembering to breathe steadily and calmly when I'm in a difficult position, brings a sweet relief from the pain. But I'm always left wondering why I would have left my breath at all, especially in a painful position when I most needed it? And when I do return to it, I feel like the Prodigal Son, welcomed home and immediately forgiven in spite of fault. I always expect to hear, "You made your yoga mat; now lie in it." But I never do hear that. I only feel tension-eased and strength-regained.

Repeatedly in last Sunday's class, the instructor would describe where each body part was supposed to be, for example, in Jaguar: "Standing on bent right leg, left hand on right ankle, right hand on right hip, left leg straight behind in the air, neck down," then he would add: "breath everywhere," as his reminder to maintain the steady, calm breath, despite the increasing flow of lactic acid into the right shin and ankle. I loved that as we went through our precise checklist of the million things we should be thinking about, the most important one, was "everywhere". It's not a struggle to find something that is abundantly available, immediately accessible, and located everywhere. Yet, I needed to be reminded.

At some point, instead of saying "breath," he said, "Grace.” "Grace is everywhere"; mercy, relief, forgiveness, help are EVERYWHERE.

When Henri Nouwen writes about Rembrandt's painting and Jesus' parable in "The Return of the Prodigal Son, he reminds us, that at any moment we can return home and be welcomed, not reprimanded – especially when we feel farthest away.

Grace is everywhere; breath is everywhere.