Hello Stranger,
I'm running up 6th avenue, my backpack bouncing up and down my back, as if wishing to break free. After a busy office day, I'm both happy and thrilled to sit through my first yoga class observation. It's close to 7 p.m. and I'm searching on the display of my phone further instructions on how to find the studio of 38th street. New York, despite its neatly ordered streets, still confuses me. The order by itself hides so much creative chaos, it sends out my head spinning in all directions.
I'm running down in direction of 7th Avenue - no sign of a Nail Shop. The YTTP website promises an entrance behind an acrylic workshop to transform into the world of Yoga to the People, like a speakeasy from the 1920s. I surrender after 5 min of searching, asking a woman for directions. Luckily she knows where to point me to and I enter up the narrow stairway, panting and pushing through students who are waiting calmly in a line to enter for class.
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| View of 6th Avenue at Night |
In a matter of seconds I free myself from the pile of winter clothes and park my overheated body onto a stack of neatly folded mats. I'm trying to stay out of the way of students, but also be available to help James, tonight's teacher, register and get the students organized for class. Matt, towel, water - multiple times. I take on my duty with a smile, feeling like the task is more rewarding than the 10 hours I've spent sitting at a desk today. Now that desk is a million of miles away and the class is about to begin. The presence of so many faces - tranquil and smiling puts me into a complete state of zen.
"Child's pose, please". All bodies sink into the floor of colorful patches created by the variety of mats. "Let's take our first collective breath". The breath of the entire room comes and goes through me. I inhale the hot air, feeling my heart working like a madman, I exhale - welcoming the first drops of sweat rush down my spine. In the dim light of the room and the oozing sound of the heating machine, the gentle flow of yoga poses transforms the bodies into tender dancers, searching for the farthest corners of their abilities. Some move in complete harmony and easiness, others struggle to unite their willful spirit under the protests of their bodies. In the haze of the struggle and the dance, I can only feel my own body possessed completely by the beauty of the moment.
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| Yoga to The People, St. Mark's Place |
My head gets stuck onto the sentence "Every pose is an invitation...". Deep inside of me it opens room for compassion and love that reminds me of my childhood - when I wasn't afraid to be vulnerable. I've lost this ability, somewhere along the road of growing up, putting all emotions under a shield, under a magnificent mental barricade. They are all now banging on that door, asking to be part of this body again. It's like the yoga poses, the energy of this room have created a tunnel leading straight to this sacred forgotten place within me. And I'm thankful to all these people that are sharing their personal battle, their own twisting dance performance, their own sacred path with me. It's moving, powerful, unforgettable...
Please note: All articles and photographs contained here are property of © Gypsy Letters, 2014 unless otherwise noted. No part of this website may be reproduced without the explicit permission of the copyright holder.
Please note: All articles and photographs contained here are property of © Gypsy Letters, 2014 unless otherwise noted. No part of this website may be reproduced without the explicit permission of the copyright holder.
