Sanguine yoga

This morning I went to yoga.  At the end of the class, after most people had rolled up their mats and were out the door, a little 5-year-old boy came bursting into the studio.  He plucked a soft squishy overball from the basket in the corner, and dropped it to the floor – then proceeded to kick it around like a soccer ball.  After a few seconds the boy’s dad came over, playfully scooped up the child, and tossed the kid over his should like a sack of potatoes.  The two “boys” left for the lobby laughing.

This was a terrific scene to me for several reasons:

  1. The little 5-year-old boy is getting exposure to yoga.  Even if he has no idea what yoga is about, even if right now he just sees “yoga” as a big open space to kick a ball around, I love knowing that at some level, this little boy is getting experience with the holistic practice and philosophy of union.
  2. The parent attending the yoga class was the dad, not the mom.  I love it when I see men in yoga classes – and I wish more guys would be willing to come.  I’m biased, but I think all people could/would benefit from a yoga practice.
  3. Both the child and the parent were truly happy.  The little boy could have been cranky cooped up inside a not-super-kid-friendly yoga lobby, waiting for his dad to finish up already; and the dad could have been upset that his child was being rambunctious in what some people try to preserve as a quiet-and-serene space; yet both of them were unbothered by external conditions, and simply allowed their internal, natural joy to shine through.

A wonderful start to my new year.



About Stef

A "serious" gal who is trying to remember to lighten up and smile.
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