questingnomad

I started doing yoga. A coworker began teaching a class after work every Tuesday and Thursday. I love it. I am the least flexible person in the class.

(Source: fuckyeahashtangayoga)

Tagged: yoga

8th June 2009

Text

Touching Strangers

nightmarebrunette:

At the end of class, the teacher said “Padma’s moving to India. Let’s give her a goodbye.” Padma was crying. She sat before the teacher on her mat and the rest of us sat crowded around her like crooked teeth in a smile. Others were crying. Maybe they knew the girl who was going away. Maybe they just felt good or felt sad and didn’t know why.

The teacher hugged her and rubbed her while others touched her back or her arm, on whatever places it would be encouraging but not too invasive. We were all covered in sweat. The teacher and Padma kissed on the cheek and then on the lips.

“Give somebody next to you a squeeze,” the teacher said. “Even if it’s just on their hand or their knee.” She’d once made us hug every other person in class before starting. There are so many different hug styles. This boy taught me once with the criticism that I’d tent my torso away and only lean in with my collarbones. Proper hugs should be full chest to chest, arms wrapped around as far as they can go. Like wow, does my body miss yours.

The girl next to me opened her arms and gave me one of those. She hugged me like I was her favorite sister. I suddenly loved her. I couldn’t tell you what she smelled or felt like. I think she was blond. She wore a pink tank top. She was all a hug. It was incredible.

I felt magnanimous and full now. I hugged the girl I’d practiced next to, who was pretty and sweet. I squeezed the hand of the girl beside me because her hand was all she offered me. But nothing compared to that first one.

In utkatasana, the teacher said “sit down in it,” which is what they all say. But then she said, “If not today, when?” And I sat my ass further down in that excruciating invisible chair.

I give real hugs.

Tagged: hugs yoga