I like yoga for many different reasons. I like the challenge: seeing how far my body can stretch, how long my muscles can hold, how much my self can do. I like the learning: hearing, reading, digesting, comprehending, internalizing, questioning, examining new knowledge feeds and fills my soul (and my mind). I like the positive focus: health and well-being at the physical, mental, emotional, and even spiritual level are big plusses to me. I like the community: being around people who value similar things I value, and who get excited by similar things I appreciate and seek out helps me feel connected and “a part of”. And I like the touch: the physical, tactile, kinesthetic, tangible feel of it all.
In the yoga class I attended today, we had a guest teacher: a woman from out of town, who came just for this weekend to teach a variety of yoga sessions. She was exotic, calm, peaceful, meditative, strong, knowledgeable, confident, self-assured, robust, and completely unafraid of touch.
Mid-way through the class, we came into rabbit pose:
While this pose might look semi-easy, it can actually be quite challenging (when done properly); and as my legs started to complain that they were tired, and my breathing started to tighten under the effort, the teacher walked up behind me, and touched my back. She placed her hand there for two seconds or so, and then moved on.
In that moment of touch, I felt a physical calming, a mental releasing, and a very strong sense of soothing.
I adore being touched. In my life, I don’t get touched very often. So when I get touched – especially in this helpful, calming, peaceful way – I soak it in. I savor it. I appreciate it. I’m thankful for it.
And my face smiles in response to it. But perhaps even more importantly, so does my heart.