The yoga studio I frequent offers a “restorative” yoga class once a week. Before yesterday, I’ve only ever done something similar once and nothing too good came of it. In fact I had quite a spiritual crisis following the class, and chakra opening or none, I link the now-resolved crisis to the so-called restorative yoga class I attended almost three years ago.
Usually what happens in these is a series of very slow stretches followed by some poses held for several minutes using props, such as blankets or cushions, to keep your body in the position while you “relax into it”. I think the idea is that your body is being stretched or lengthened without you using muscle to keep it in that position.
Yesterday’s class went fine: no spiritual crisis and I think it helped my upper back some, which has been tight lately. The instructor provided a class focus; something to think about while in the practice. I do find these helpful because it’s something positive with which to re-focus my ever-wondering mind while I’m lying in really awkward positions, in very close proximity with some 20 strangers. The focus was “gratitude”; we were to focus on things in our lives that are going well and throughout the class she even prompted us to hone in on specific areas of our lives.
I did this with moderate success. I was able to identify some things I was proud of, but it was by no means a deep experience. I didn’t walk out of there with streams of gratitude flowing off me. After that, some friends came over for dinner and a movie, and then I went to bed. The next morning a housemate woke me to have breakfast.
As I was making my bed and getting ready for breakfast, I had a light nagging feeling, something tugging to get my attention and asking me to listen. I stilled my hands and waited for it to float to the top of my memory. What was it? Was I forgetting something? Was there something uncertain I should be worrying about? What?
Nothing.
Nothing was wrong; there were no worries, nothing forgotten, no other place I was supposed to be, no dream deferred, nothing broken beyond repair, no deed beyond forgiveness.
So I exhaled and the gratitude came. It welled up, flowed over the brim, poured down my sides, drenched the bed and wet the floor beneath my feet.
I have no clue if my morning gratitude had anything to do with the yoga teacher’s instructions the day before. And I couldn’t prove that three years ago, a similar restorative yoga class twisted me into months of existential and spiritual questioning.
But about that gratitude, it had a distinct flavor. One that said, this was not your own doing and yet here you are. This is not what you planned and yet you have joy. You didn’t come looking for Me, and yet I’m by your side.
Usually what happens in these is a series of very slow stretches followed by some poses held for several minutes using props, such as blankets or cushions, to keep your body in the position while you “relax into it”. I think the idea is that your body is being stretched or lengthened without you using muscle to keep it in that position.
Yesterday’s class went fine: no spiritual crisis and I think it helped my upper back some, which has been tight lately. The instructor provided a class focus; something to think about while in the practice. I do find these helpful because it’s something positive with which to re-focus my ever-wondering mind while I’m lying in really awkward positions, in very close proximity with some 20 strangers. The focus was “gratitude”; we were to focus on things in our lives that are going well and throughout the class she even prompted us to hone in on specific areas of our lives.
I did this with moderate success. I was able to identify some things I was proud of, but it was by no means a deep experience. I didn’t walk out of there with streams of gratitude flowing off me. After that, some friends came over for dinner and a movie, and then I went to bed. The next morning a housemate woke me to have breakfast.
As I was making my bed and getting ready for breakfast, I had a light nagging feeling, something tugging to get my attention and asking me to listen. I stilled my hands and waited for it to float to the top of my memory. What was it? Was I forgetting something? Was there something uncertain I should be worrying about? What?
Nothing.
Nothing was wrong; there were no worries, nothing forgotten, no other place I was supposed to be, no dream deferred, nothing broken beyond repair, no deed beyond forgiveness.
So I exhaled and the gratitude came. It welled up, flowed over the brim, poured down my sides, drenched the bed and wet the floor beneath my feet.
I have no clue if my morning gratitude had anything to do with the yoga teacher’s instructions the day before. And I couldn’t prove that three years ago, a similar restorative yoga class twisted me into months of existential and spiritual questioning.
But about that gratitude, it had a distinct flavor. One that said, this was not your own doing and yet here you are. This is not what you planned and yet you have joy. You didn’t come looking for Me, and yet I’m by your side.
2 comments:
I love this story. It reminds me of the feeling that I had while doing acupuncture, which we have discussed before. "If you stray to far, I will pull you back." I think that God wants us to explore and find our own way. Your gift of gratitude was amazing. Very few people will discover that nothing is wrong. Congratulations and beautifully stated.
yeah yeah yeah, getting a bit new agey for me. I liked the weirdos on the bus and your philosophizing about mundane everyday stuff. Spirituality through yoga has been done. I say its time to transition the blog back to musing about observations, that's your forte.
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