This is a story about Zen* lost...and Zen returned.
Vocabulary required for this blog:
Zen – (official Webster’s definition): A Japanese form of Buddhism reaching enlightenment through meditation, contemplation and intuition.
Zen* – (Faith definition): A trendy, slightly overused, word used by youngish people (who are often neither Japanese nor Buddhist) to describe being calm and attempting (if time permits) to sort of, kind of, consider the possibility of enlightenment (unless the Iphone buzzes…in which case facebook needs to be checked). Often used in relation to yoga, meditation, and/or Jon Stewart.
My story begins:
I’m not exactly a yoga superstar.
Despite 8 years of practicing once a week at a wonderful studio, with a fantastic (and tough) teacher:
-flying crow is about as close as I get to a “fancy yoga party trick”.
-my balance is…so-so.
-I can *almost* get my head all the way to the floor when I bend over (almost).
-I have basically given up on ever successfully doing a headstand (despite lots of help from my teacher and various walls)- I'm simply a shoulder stand kinda girl.
And all of this is ok, because, while part of my reason for going to yoga every week is to see progress and try to get into the fancy party trick positions, it’s more about the calmness that the practice brings.
Most of my workout time for the last two years has involved Iron Man training - running, swimming, and biking long distances:
trying to get faster
trying to get farther
trying to pass other people
trying to shatter personal records
thinking a lot about: how fast I’m going, how much further I have to go, what I last ate, when I will next drink, if I want to take the time for a bathroom break, if I slept enough the night before, what my heartrate is doing now…versus what it was doing 10 minutes ago..versus what I predicted it would be doing in my training plan.
It’s a lot of pushing and a lot of thinking and a lot of details.
Yoga is different. It’s about being in the moment and thinking only about the pose you are holding/trying really hard to hold at that exact second.
The music is calm, and relaxing, and soothing, and the lights are dim. The movements are repetitive and challenging, and slow.
I have come to regard my one night of yoga each week as a break, not a physical break (because it’s really, really , really stinking hard), but a mental break.
It’s my weekly 1 hour and 15 minutes of Zen*.
Accompanying me during this 1 hour and 15 minutes each week, is a class of 15-18 other yogis. Over the course of my time at the studio, I have met/seen/practiced-next-to-but-not-talked-to, a fairly predictable group of yoga peeps – a gaggle of very driven 20/30-somethings in their Lululemon gear, who are, from what I can tell, also trying to find Zen*.
One of the people in my story fits this description exactly:
“The Girl” is in her mid-20s and has a permanent spot in the front row (show off). She can do arm balances. She can put her foot behind her head. She hasn’t done a shoulder stand in years because they are WAY too easy. She doesn’t sweat at all, which is completely incomprehensible to me, as my mat is disgusting after the first 3 minutes (seriously…only 3 minutes…imagine what it’s like after 75 minutes…I’m literally slipping on my own sweat…it’s just gross). She can stand on her pinkie toe, while binding her arms behind her back and chanting (ok, this last one is made up, but she could probably do it). The point is she’s *good* - really, really good – a kick-ass yogi, if you will.
The other person in my story, however, does not fit the gaggle description at all. “The Lady” is notably older than everyone else in the class. She is a third-rower, like me, and also sticks to shoulder stand, despite coming to classes weekly for roughly as long as I have. She sweats.
Every week, class ends with a few minutes of corpse pose (laying flat on your mat with your eyes closed), followed by the teacher bowing his head and saying "Namaste" and the rest of us responding with "Namaste".
Relieved to have made it through another practice, my classmates and I all wipe down our mats (a longer process for some of us than others), put away our blocks and straps, and wander to the back of the room to collect our bags from the cubbies along the back wall. Everyone is typically tired but also in amazing spirits, as we bask in the post-yoga glow of enlightenment, feeling ridiculously superior to all of the other non-yoga people we will encounter on our trips home (at least I feel superior...probably shouldn't speak for my whole class on that last point).
The overall positive vibes of this post-class ritual is a part of what I love about yoga.
That’s why my heart broke a little when "the cubby incident" occurred.
It was a typical yoga evening and class ended as normal – a group “Namaste”, wash down mat, and smile at fellow yogis as we walk to get our things.
The Girl was standing in front of the cubbies, talking with one of her front-row-friends as they put on their shoes.
The Lady walked up and asked if The Girl would move over just a bit so she could get to her things.
The Girl remarked that The Lady was being rude by asking her to move and should just be patient.
The Lady replied that The Girl was being equally rude by blocking the entire cubby area to have her conversation, rather than taking her shoes from the cubby and walked to a less-crowded area to put them on and chat.
The Girl made some sarcastic comments.
The Lady did too.
The Lady took her stuff and left.
The Girl and her front-row-friend laughed at the Lady as she walked away.
I stood there feeling a little sad, and confused, and lost.
It just didn't make sense. This is the sort of thing that happens at kickboxing...or spin class...or even pilates...but not yoga.
There's no conflict in yoga!
Things were tense in the weeks that followed, as a rematch was expected at the end of every class.
Yoga just didn't feel safe anymore.
Zen* lost.
Then, one day, The Girl wasn't at class.
She didn't come the next week either, or the next.
Months passed and there was no The Girl.
Did she move? Yoga injury? Distracted by a new relationship?
Who knows, but her spot in the front row was taken over by another kick-ass yogi (who did not get into fights over cubbies) and yoga felt relatively safe again.
But, just when I was starting to feel like we were in the clear, I heard a familiar voice at the beginning of a recent class.
The Girl was back...sort of.
I couldn't help but notice, as she walked to the front of the room and re-claimed her spot, that she seemed different - less sure of herself somehow, and kind of sad.
All kinds of scenarios arose in my mind:
Maybe she moved for a new job and it didn't work out.
Maybe she did have a yoga injury and wasn’t sure if she was ready for class again - maybe she would have to do a shoulder stand like the rest of us, and it was more than she could take.
Maybe there had been a guy and it ended...maybe badly.
Whatever it was, she seemed off.
I looked down my row at The Lady, searching her reaction. Had she noticed the return of The Girl? Had she noticed the difference in demeanor? Would she see this as a weakness that might work to her advantage in the inevitable post-class throwdown?
It was a long 75 minutes, as I dreaded what the end of class might bring. After months of happy, conflict free yoga, how was this going to go?
Was I going to need to find a kickboxing class to go to on Thursday nights?
As we said our Namaste, and wiped down the mats, I watched both The Girl and The Lady closely.
The Girl walked back to the cubbies to gather her things.
As The Woman walked back, I prepared myself for what was coming.
The Lady put her hand on The Girl’s arm
(I braced for impact)
and said…
“Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.”
I was dumbfounded.
My yoga mates were dumbfounded.
The Girl was even dumbfounded.
“I’ve been…away,” she replied hesitantly, looking at the floor, “but I’m back now.”
“Good,” said The Lady with a reassuring smile. "I’m so glad.”
Not an ounce of sarcasm, not an ounce of judgement, not an ounce of anything other than genuine concern and kindness.
Zen found.
Isn't it great when people surprise you in a great way!?
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