This afternoon I met my friend Lara F. for coffee and a quick gossip, then wandered down the street to my friend Eliza's shop, Gentille Aloutte. Eliza is burnt out from working so hard - she designs and makes a lot of the beautiful things she sells. "Danielle," she moaned when I walked through the door. "We NEED to go to Yoga." I instantly agreed and suggested a place in Gastown - until Eliza told me about Yoga for the People, a donation based studio located in a scuzzy block of buildings on East Hastings. When I got home, I pulled up the schedule online, saw that there was a class tonight, and headed over to check it out.
Now, I don't mind yoga, but I don't love it. It's something I do because it's good for me, like flossing my teeth, and it's something which I don't do nearly enough of (like flossing my teeth). But after one class at YFTP, I might be a convert.
I was a bit tentative walking into the studio, but the instructor, Rachel, was lovely when I told her I was new, and she showed me around, pointing out the little cubbies where I was to leave my stuff, and the box topped with a bronze Buddha statue where I deposited my donation. "You'll love this class," Rachel promised as I laid my mat out on the floor beside the other students. "This class is like doing yoga in my living room. I call it the Family."
And it was like a family, oddly enough. The dozen or so students were friendly and welcomed me. Before we began class we all had to introduce ourselves and share something with the class - when I told them I was on a new journey and had started my own practice, they all clapped and complimented my pink hair. Rachel cracked a few jokes, asked us what we wanted to be inspired by tonight (we all agreed on the promise of renewal in springtime, and being open to new possibilities) and soon class was underway.
I have never had that spiritual "a-ha" moment in a yoga class before, and have mostly found my previous teachers' efforts at "spiritual chat" during class to be inauthentic and rehearsed, but in this class I laughed, I sweated, I shook with exertion, I connected to myself, and I came near to tears at times - not tears of sadness, more tears of release. Rachel was such a kind teacher, remembering everyone's names, laughing, making up words like "buttness" to describe poses where we were supposed to stick it out - and sometimes speaking in a funny accent she called her "Indian guru" voice but was more like an English nanny. All of us students laughed and talked and smiled our way through the entire class, encouraged by Rachel, and I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself, some communal effort, although I was also completely focused in what I was doing, and trying to keep up with the poses. At the end of the class, as we lay on the floor with our eyes closed, Rachel started singing in a clear and sweet soprano voice, in words I didn't understand. The melody was haunting, it was definitely a prayer of some kind, and I could feel my heart opening as she sang. That's when the tears came.
After we had finished, we all chatted as we cleaned our mats. Other students asked how I had enjoyed my first class. I explained, with slight surprise, that actually, I had had a blast. That I had never had fun in yoga before. "We know," they all replied, seriously. "Us either! That's why we keep coming back." One student told me that she just feels "good vibes" at YFTP and that it is such a special place for her to be. Another student, a sweet girl in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, congratulated me on my new path and told me earnestly, "It's all about the journey." I sidled up to Rachel after the class because I just felt compelled to hug her, and she opened her arms casually, not stopping the conversation she was having with another student, and embraced me. I left the class feeling happy but shaky, spent, and somehow vibrant, and centered.
What an absolutely special place YFTP is, with its warm, exposed brick walls, vases of tulips on the altar, and fantastically welcoming people. I did feel like I was in someone's living room, and that I had every right to be there. That I was part of the Family. And yes, somebody help me, I'm becoming a hippie. Who flosses. Namaste.
