I’ve taken a lot of yoga classes over the years, both locally and while traveling. My favorite classes have been the ones which are a challenge and push me to a new place physically. Thanks to soccer being suspended for the holiday weekend on Saturday, I was able to make it for the first time in weeks to one of my favorite classes, Aaron’s 11:15 Vinyasa, at The Hot Yoga Spot’s Latham location.
Despite managing to get there early and the light attendance, “my” spot on the left side of the room was already taken when I entered the studio. I unrolled my mat as I close as I possibly could to my usual space for a moment before changing my mind. No, I decided, I wasn’t going to force my way to a place where there wasn’t room. I picked up my stuff and moved to the opposite side of the studio. The universe was telling me that I needed a new perspective.
Yoga instructors seem to each have their own philosophies and the language they use can vary quite a bit. One message I’ve heard repeatedly, though, is about how certain poses can stimulate an emotional response, something I had never before experienced. I mean, of course, I’ve felt frustrated or encouraged by my practice, but never before have I felt the way I did Saturday.
The class was hard with lots of core work as well as flows that I found difficult. My chaturanga always feel like it needs work and I couldn’t stick eagle on one side and it was hot and I hadn’t slept very much…and I felt so damn tired of having my time on my mat co-opted by situations outside of the room, outside of my control. We moved into pigeon on the right side and I went into the pose with surprising ease. I bowed low, and rested my forehead on my mat, breathing in and out through my nose, releasing.
The tears came so fast that I didn’t have time to even consider leaving the studio. All I could do was let the fuck go.
I’m not really a cryer, but those tears weren’t going to be denied. As I silently shed hot tears I was powerless to stop, my heart and soul surrendered to sadness. I couldn’t change the circumstances which had caused my sorrow, but I could accept the situation for what it was – a position that I entered willingly which had stretched me to a place I had never before been, but that I had the strength from which to move on. Class over.
2 thoughts on “Pigeon tears”
I did that same thing in Spin class one morning and was grateful for the dark room but I later observed that it was remarkably therapeutic.
The older I get, the more amazed I am by the human body. I’m glad not to be alone in my emotional response and for a dark room in which to experience it. Sounds like you had similar circumstances.