Sunday, November 8, 2009
Initial Judgments Aside
On the first night of a yoga workshop with Rusty Wells, he reminded me a little bit of Robert Duvall in The Apostle. He was stamping and singing with a fervor that startled me. That night reminded me of some kind of Christian revival in Sanskrit. The experience challenged my sensibilities, to put it mildly...
When we were in dog pose we were instructed to lift one leg and place it right above the butt of the person next to us (I thought). Then his colleague came over and adjusted my foot so it touched my neighbor’s butt. I thought that was rather strange, and felt I should have the choice of not touching this other person’s butt if I didn’t want to… Anyway, maybe I was missing something here or I simply didn’t get it.
The next morning I considered whether I should go back, and spent some time complaining about it internally. I found myself wondering if it was “real yoga.” Then I asked myself the question: What is real yoga? What came to me was the following: Real yoga is opening your heart to another viewpoint. So I went back and I’m very glad and grateful I did.
The Saturday sessions may have been the most physically intense yoga experiences I have ever had. That in itself is kind of cool. His vinyasa yoga instruction has an accuracy and speed that made the class at times seem like vinyasa on steroids. The music had a relentless beat that helped energize the poses when energy was waning. It’s also weird to me that when I looked around people would be in yoga poses moving to the beat of the music, and I sometimes caught myself doing the same thing.
In the end I did find myself just kind of enjoying the wild ride.