Finding Self in Practice, Finding Community on Zoom
I have been finding great refuge in my yoga practice. The sound of my breath consumes all thought. Slowly inhale, slowly exhale. Deep breath in, long breath out.
The yoga I practice is Ashtanga where words are rarely spoken to avoid distracting the mind. Attention is focused on the breath, the posture and the drishti to stabilize body, mind, and spirit. The majority of my yoga teaching is Mysore style Ashtanga, where the teacher does not lead everyone together. Each student does their own practice, and the teaching is directed individually to each student. In the Mysore room at Down Under, the ocean of breath combines with soft conversations muted by distance and whispering. The thud of feet landing in Chaturanga comforts. The door opens and closes as students join and leave, and footsteps and unrolling mats remind everyone that we are not alone. We are practicing together, not only with those next to us, but alongside others world-wide in this sacred space of lineage and discovery.
When I teach in the Mysore room, I ride the waves of breath that swirl and float to permeate the warm air.
Evaporating sweat adds extra humidity that lubricates the joints and lengthens muscles. The energy from each student’s practice combines to create a palpable force that brings meaning to me as a teacher and carries the practitioners farther than they might go on their own.
Teaching yoga by Zoom is not quite the same.
My house seems cold and feels colder the longer I sit and watch the miniature boxes on the computer screen. Often the camera angle limits what I can see. I hear my breath, but the other screens are muted. When unmuted, the sounds of computer screens being adjusted, household members rustling in the kitchen, and feet scraping along the mat become unnaturally loud.
On Zoom, words must be loud and clear to be heard across the wifi. Often in the sea of silence, a sentence seems to slice rudely through the quiet. Yet students have told me they like to hear the conversations between teacher and student. They reinforce that we are a community, all doing the work together. Sharing in the experience of the practice.
In the Mysore room and on Zoom, each student practices their version of the practice. There are different series of poses and the student learns them sequentially. The practice itself teaches. The human “teacher” is a guide. As a guide, my goal is to empower the students to find what they are seeking through the practice.
I listen to myself breathe in and out.
Some people are new to the practice and each pose is patiently deconstructed. Others have been practicing for years and flow through the poses comfortably with little need from outside input except for occasional mentoring through the more challenging poses. If we were together in a physical space, new students could see seasoned practitioners and be peripherally aware of what is to come. Together in physical space, we would find connection beyond words through touch that guides the flow of energy or creates a different engagement in the asana. Together in physical space, students would know I am seeing them. I hope they know I see them on Zoom.
Inhale, exhale. In and out.
I miss the students who haven’t made their way into the virtual Mysore room. I email them to check in. On the other hand, it has been joyous to welcome new students online who were not able to travel to the studio or who previously did not have availability to attend class. I hope we can someday all practice side by side.
Inhale, exhale. Following our breath, finding our truth.
Creating breath, creating space. We are one and we are all. On our mats, on Zoom. We evolve separately and together. The practice brings meaning to what we do, no matter where we are.
