Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
As we move through the rest of the standing sequence and transition to our seated poses, I keep a surreptitious eye on Tank. He struggles with any posture requiring flexibility in the shoulder girdle and upper spine, but there’s a stubborn determination in the way he approaches each new form that I can’t help but admire.
Though he really needs to remember to breathe…
“Inhale,” I murmur, stopping beside his mat again as he leans into a seated forward fold. “Inhale,” I repeat. “For real, Theodore, I need you to pull in a deep breath.”
He shoots a dangerous look my way. “Tank,” he whispers. “Unless you want me to call you Stephie.”
I arch a brow. “Point taken, but I really do need you to breathe. The breathing is the most important part. The breathing is what we’re here for.”
He sniffs in a begrudging breath.
I nod and smile. “Good, now let’s see if you can inhale for three seconds. Relax your belly and pull air in from the base of your ribs all the way up to the top of your rib cage.” I hum in approval as he gives it his best shot. “Now exhale for a count of four, emptying the lungs completely.” As he releases the air, I gently push at the small of his back, moving him deeper into the forward fold.
He makes a sound somewhere between a groan of protest and a moan of relief that makes Hattie chuckle on her mat beside him. “I felt the same way my first time,” she whispers encouragingly. “She’s a tiny tyrant, but you’ll feel so much better when we’re done.”
To my surprise, Tank glances her way, a small smile curving his full lips as he admits, “I actually feel better already.”
“Amazing, that’s so great to hear,” I say, warmth spreading through my chest.
This is why I love what I do. Yoga isn’t just exercise. Every time we show up on our mats, we’re healing, growing, and expanding our hearts and minds.
“Moving on to our favorite part, lovelies,” I say, standing to address the group. “Savasana time. Lie down, close your eyes, and take a few minutes of stillness to allow your body to integrate everything it learned today.”
I turn up the ambient music until it throbs in the room and return to my mat at the front, watching over the precious souls in my charge. When I’m here at the end of class, holding space for my students so they can relax and let go, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. This path hasn’t always been easy—my parents were both profoundly disappointed when I bailed on college to study yoga, and I know I’ll never be as financially stable as my friends who finished their business degrees—but there’s so much joy here.
In this room.
In this practice.
In knowing I’m doing exactly what the universe put me here to do.
When I’m in the teaching flow, the doubts that haunt me in other parts of my life fade away, leaving me in a place of peaceful gratitude.
After I’ve brought the class into a final seated pose and we’ve closed our practice with three loud, proud chants of “om,” I remind everyone about the headstand workshop coming up next month and wish them an amazing rest of their Friday. As the other students roll up their mats and filter out with quiet thank-yous, Tank lingers, staring down at his borrowed mat like he isn’t sure what to do with it.
“You can just leave it on the floor, and I’ll clean it before I hang it back up,” I say, smiling as I cross the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” he says, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “But also calm and…cleaner. On the inside. If that makes sense.”
“It totally does, and that’s fabulous,” I say, unable to contain my enthusiasm. “And it only gets better, the more you practice, I promise. I was already seeing a huge change in your shoulder mobility between the beginning of class and the end.”
He nods, a frown wrinkling his forehead as he rolls his left arm in a circle. “Yeah, it feels better. Better than it has in a while, actually.” His frown deepens as he emits another of his signature grunts.
I cock my head. “And that makes you angry because…”
His lips twitch. “Because now I have no excuse to bail on more of the breathing and stretching. I guess you’d better sign me up for a class pack or whatever that sign on the door said.”
I pump a fist, beaming as I say, “Yes! Another yoga convert. A reluctant one, but I’ll take it.”
He laughs—just a faint huff of amusement, but I can already tell that’s a big deal from Tank—and shrugs. “Sure. I guess I am a convert. Sorry for coming in with my mind made up. My stubbornness is a strength, but it’s also a weakness.”