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:
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.