“One of you went for a cigarette just after arriving,” the man scanned the room for the culprit, his accusatory gaze following his pointing finger.
“What will a person like that ever be able to achieve?” Not a lot, his dismissive hand gesture answered.
“You are not here to enjoy yourselves with nicotine and whatnot!” He declared with incredulity at such a ridiculous notion. “You are not here for holiday camp he-he-ha-ha time! You are here to perform an operation.”
My first experience with Iyengar yoga was in a restorative class in Kathmandu. The city, with its constant rush and swirl of activity, calls for a restorative class from time to time.
The teacher instructed us to move into child’s pose, balasana. It was a moment of complete relaxation, a chance to let my shoulders roll blissfully forward, stretching out my back and neck from any of the tension that had built up there. My stomach was gently compressed and I could feel the breath in my back in a gentle releasing massage. I could have slept quite happily there, rolling peacefully in the waves of my breath. I moved further into the sensation, my mind slowly waking up to my body. [continue reading…]