More Than A Yoga Body

Today I have the opportunity to assist a class at South Boston Yoga. At least sixty people fill the room. Tiny pathways, better suited to small, soft mice, snake through the mat-filled room. Mats get closer and closer as kind yogis squeeze over to make room for the last few folks trickling into class.
I stand and watch as our teacher, David, makes his way to the front of the room and opens class with his charismatic greeting. Being the second day of January 2011, David asks people new to his class to raise their hands. These brave souls with raised hands receive an ecstatic "WELCOME" - instantly a part of the family.
As class gets moving, I tiptoe and balance through the room, touching people and gently guiding bodies to slightly deeper poses.

David is serving up a challenging class. I watch from the sidelines as bodies shake into new places and breath becomes deep and audible. Almost everyone I touch is covered in a slick layer of sweat and concentration. Feet together, knees together, hips sinking into chair pose - the breath deepens. From the edges of mats, sandwiched between deeply focused bodies, I silently witness minds and hearts finding their edge - breathing into it, expanding it. I stand quietly as David leads them down to plank, holding them there.
Mountain pose, diving down, bowing. All these bowing hearts and bodies, surrendering in full awareness of present moment. Side angle, twisting their hearts open and I am allowed the chance of touching this community of deeply sweaty, deeply present, deeply mindful people. Gentle touch guides their twist, their hearts unfolding towards the ceiling, towards greater openness. Laughs are interspersed with exhales as people find humor in their physical limitations and flexibility in their acceptance of themselves.

This class ends with a long savasana. I move from arm to arm, gently placing my hand under people's scapula, drawing their shoulders away from their ears. This is one of my favorite adjustments to receive and to give. Placing arms and hands back on the floor, sometimes I can not help placing one hand on top of a neighbors. Their is not much room in this class. But the people in class whom I touch, whose hands I place next to one another, who walked into class as strangers, do not retract their hands from their neighbors. They don't move their pinkies away from contact. They allow their hands to rest down, touching, joined in a simple gesture of trust and care.

Everyone rolls over to one side and sits up with eyes closed, hand over heart. We finish with three "OM"s. Everyone's voices finding a vibration that lifts the room further. We are at home in our human voices, each one a thread in something greater.
My heart is full. After a final seated bow, people rise to leave. Their faces are relaxed and free, shinning out a new gift of something shared and special.
I linger a moment. Sure, I don't always find this feeling in every class. But when I do, I am again in awe at the possibility. I am in awe at how I cannot explain with straightforward words where yoga class brings us. I do know it is somewhere that feels like our truest home, where people meet without names or jobs or status symbol. People meet with their rawest self, stripped down to basic, flawed and beautiful humanity. People show up and move and feel. I don't care where yoga came from. I know where it is now, today, as I leave a room of open hearts and open possibility. Bowing in gratitude - peace to all.