Updated: Oct 5
Yesterday I rushed to Westside Yoga for my first class, hauling my computer and speakers and big pile of laminated poems. Strangely enough, no one else was there early……or on time for the class…..or even late.
At first, I was puzzled, even to the point of checking that I was there on the right day and at the right time. Then I realized why I was confused because of an immense blessing over the last 20 years. All my writing workshops have, for the most part, gone off without a hitch. People always showed up (and often early, holding the door open for me as I carried in supplies). I’m simply not used to being the only one in the class.
So I did what any sensible person would have done: yoga. I also wrote a little bit, and put the music up high so I could dance around the room. This yoga studio is a beautiful place to be with a bamboo springy floor, high ceilings, and big windows overlooking the field and woods. The air is light, the light makes the whole room glow, and there are lovely touches around the edges (like a small stone shaped exactly like a heart on a window sill). Who wouldn’t want to be here?
Obviously, at least some people, but I tell myself that this is a fairly new studio on the westside of town where most people don’t go to do yoga, and we’re all quite young in this endeavor. I also tell myself I will keep showing up, keeping putting out the word, and if what I’m offering is reaching people at the right time in their lives, they will come…….if not, I have no reason to doubt what I already know: doing yoga with intermissions of writing is a great combination. By the end of a session, we will not only have gotten a good workout, come home to our breath, stretched and strengthened our limbs and core, but also written some words on the page that speak of who we are, what we need, how we see the unfolding world.
Meanwhile, I will be there next week and the next at 5:15 on Wednesday. If you’re around, come join me, and let’s see what we can explore and celebrate in this beautiful place.