Angry in a yoga class

I was enraged by her audacity.

She was wearing bright red track pants that swished when she walked.

Each of her heavy steps provided an accompanying thump that vibrated the hardwood floor.

Thump, swish, thump, swish.

Lying on my yoga mat, I was meant to be meditating.

“She must have been at least 8 minutes late,” I seethed as she stomped past me to collect her props.

I tried to check my hypocrisy, reminding myself of my frequent tardiness in both life and occasionally yoga.

“At least when I’m late, I have the decency to be quiet,” a self-righteous voice chimed in.

I strived to listen to the instructor as he encouraged us to release our expectations about how class should go, reminding us that it was ok if a car alarm went off or folks arrived late.

It was all part of the practice.

I resolved to focus on my own, but it didn’t last.

As I took 5 deep breaths in downward dog, I once again regarded my classmate with disdain.

In a room packed with students with their heads down and hips high in the air, she was casually rolling her shoulders and standing tall, protruding in the room like an obelisk with a black ponytail.

“Why come to a yoga class if you’re just going to do whatever you want?” I raged silently.

Part of yoga and meditation is noticing the patterns of the mind.

Yesterday, my mind was in a nasty state.

I catalogued her transgressions as though each of her movements were a personal affront.

I wondered, “What is it about this woman that is activating me?”

Perhaps it was that she was so free.

She prioritized fulfilling her own desires, even if those desires were slightly disruptive to the rest of the class… or at least me.

I’ve attended this class multiple times a week for over a year, and I don’t think I’ve ever varied meaningfully from the instructor’s flow.

My instinct toward being a “good student” arises despite the teacher’s explicit instructions to the contrary.

He welcomes us to take variations on the flow he’s leading, telling us that, “Yoga is traditionally a solitary practice that we just so happen to do in a group.”

My rigidity toward my fellow yoga student was all of my own making. These were artificial rules that I’d created for myself, secretly demanding the other 40 students in the class adhere to them too.

But these rules aren’t serving me, and they don’t align with my values.

“Name your needs” is a phrase I use frequently with coaching clients, reminding them to notice what they need and seek it out.

It’s a framework I’ve strived to employ for over a decade in my own life, a practice that sometimes feels aspirational given my instincts toward overcompliance.

Here I was watching my fellow yogi model what I espouse: she was naming her needs and meeting them. I renamed the resentment I was feeling: it was envy.

There was a longing in me that she evoked, a desire to hold onto the practice a little less tightly. To flow with both the poses and my own desires.

Moving forward, my goal in yoga is to tune into my body and my own experience, to listen to my muscles and my mind and adjust my practice accordingly. Maybe I need to roll my shoulders or spend a little extra time in a low lunge.

I’m sure someone in class will irritate me, and I’ll think to myself, “the audacity!!!” But I refuse to stoke the flames of resentment. Instead, I’ll strive to notice the patterns of my mind, as chaotic as they may be.

There’s almost always something useful in the noticing.

With love,
Lelia

Trust Yourself To Try:

• What upcoming opportunities do you have to name your needs?

• What resentments or patterns of the mind do you notice coming up? How might you reframe them?