My online yoga classes give me routine. I sit at my laptop and sign up for classes in advance. They’ve been going for about ten days, the classes are with my regular yoga teacher, Stella, and she’s fab. She got it together early, learning the whole online Zoom thing and she’s super professional.
It’s excellent yoga.
And I love it. It’s keeping my body strong and my mind calm. It’s giving me a bit of purpose to each day. And my hips are opening just fabulously, dear teacher, FABULOUSLY.
And yet it makes me sad.
Yoga has always been about arriving, quietly taking off shoes, quietly saying hello, setting up and settling in. And then it’s about rolling up our mats, saying thank you and offering gratitude, walking out and going oh my god that was hard, jeez that was good, oy my body, my hips are so open they couldn’t be any more open, great class, thanks Stella, please open the gate, PLEASE OPEN THE FUCKING GATE, bye everyone, see you tomorrow.
And during the class, there’s sometimes touch. So gentle and so soft, but there’s touch.
Stella adjusting us, her hands stretching our backs to places we didn’t know they could stretch.
Dirk, in restorative, placing blankets over us, quietly, mindfully, thoughtfully.
You don’t even know he’s there.
But he’s there.
Stella is there.
They thank us. We thank them.
We are all present.
And I miss those moments.
We’ll get back to them, I know that. For now, online is excellent and I am grateful for it. I’m not so grateful that Stella can still see me scooping into downward dog, and if I have to do one more fucking hip opener I might scream.
BUT I LOVE IT. AND IT MAKES ME CRY. AND I’M GRATEFUL.
Peace. Peace. Peace.
Stella – 076 813 2825 / firstname.lastname@example.org