The Best Way to Love

Yesterday I finally made it to a yoga class. I had been planning to go on Tuesday, but prior commitments that I thought I had gotten out of, came up and there was nothing I could do. Surprisingly, though I hadn't made it to the studio in the past week and a half, I had been practicing regularly on my own at home (though, in front of the TV, which isn't really the same, but nevertheless...). I was so relieved to finally make it to a class, not only because my body needed it badly, but because I feel the past few weeks have taken their toll, and I needed to open my heart. I was yearning for something that I could not put my finger on, but I knew exactly where I would find it.

Bethany, a fellow yoga teacher trainee, found me before class and said hello. I got up from my mat, and I think when I hugged her, I actually lifted her off the floor. All I wanted was to hug someone-- and lucky Bethany, she was it. Class was about to start, but all I wanted to do was talk to her, see how she was, let her know how I was...give her another hug.

Barbara, my instructor, owner of the studio, and teacher for my 200-hr training, came over just before starting as well. It wouldn't surprise me if she instinctively knew what I needed: someone to look into my eyes deeply, and let me know they're there. And that's exactly what she did. Her eyes are so bright and kind, and always when I see her, I know she sees me--right through me I feel. Sometimes it's uncomfortable, but tonight, it was exactly what I came for.

The asana practice was hard, but it didn't really matter. My body went through the motions, I breathed, I felt, I connected with myself, but it was nothing special. Sometimes all the asana is, is moving my body, and I remember where to go and how to open intuitively. I am graceful and at ease and calm.. I am home, but it is nothing spectacular. I did not feel a rise of emotion, I did not feel like crying or laughing. I just went through the motions, and it felt familiar and nice, but it was nothing special.

After class, Barbara and Bethany and I talked some more. We reminisced about the training, about how we missed it, about how the week after our last weekend together there was a physical ache in our hearts. Actual heartache. We talked around this heartache, but we did not identify it until Barbara, in her matter-of-fact, straightforward, lovely way said this:

"This spiritual awakening that people are looking for," she touches her heart, and then opens her palm to us, "it's just a yearning to truly connect with others."

And it's so true. The reason I went to yoga class last night, and the reason I missed it so much is because of this connection. I go to work, I go home, I go to the grocery store, and I try to be present and I try to connect. But how often do you get the chance--or people give you to chance--to really look into their eyes and make a connection. It feels uncomfortable most of the time because we don't do it often--or ever. But when Bethany and Barb took the moments before and after class to see me and connect with me, I felt more connected to them and to all people, to the world as a whole.

I can do yoga on my own, and I can go to classes all day and all night, and I will probably feel great. And going inside is important, making that personal connection with yourself, knowing what your body is, opening your heart, it is all imperative in order to be open to connecting with others. When we see other people as conscious beings, though, it's different than going inside. Looking outside of ourselves we are presented with the opportunity to understand and physically see how we are all connected. Sometimes I feel like there is no where else to go inside-- either I've put barriers up around the things that hurt, or I'm empty of things. But connecting with others gives me somewhere to go, somewhere to grow and reach out, a way to remember that we're all holding the whole together somehow.

Look into someones eyes today and see them, and in doing this you let them know that you're here too, you suffer too, you don't have all the answers either, and it's alright. It may be uncomfortable, but it is simply the best way to love.