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But in our previous house, we practiced in a loft open to the sounds of the rest of the house, it was a bit dusty too. We once decided we needed to practice in the kitchen because it was the only place without carpeting! That didn't last long.
Over the years I've taught yoga in a wide variety of spaces. One church gymnasium my students were particularly fond of even though it got reeeaaallly hot in there in the summer. But there were great accoustics for "ommming" and lots of room to spread out. There were spaces that were quiet and spaces with street noise. There were spaces in buildings with no other activities but our yoga class and spaces with lots of other classes....including a pottery studio downstairs, private music lessons across the hall. We could sometimes hear the thump of the clay being thrown. We could always hear the music. Have you meditated to ragtime piano? It's an interesting challenge. Then there was the time a year ago where the walls of the classroom were painted a deep red. People were upset. How are we going to do yoga in a RED room?! (We've managed nicely thank you). There was a space on the top floor of an old building with floors so dusty and dirty that you needed to stay on your mat or your feet got filthy.
Recently one of the studios where I teach has relocated with a new owner. It's only been a short time but change is hard and people are struggling to make it feel like home. I've struggled a bit too. But I've come to realize that as we sit in meditation, as we do our yoga practice, bit by bit we will discover the space where we practice is within. Much as we would prefer not to have external challenges to that practice, they can be part of the deepening of our practice. The deepening of our attention can grow in just such challenging places.
As Jon Kabat-Zinn says...no matter where you go, there you are.
2 comments:
Where we practice is within. Good words to remember.
Shanti
Namaste
Exactly! Beautifully described. I did love those churches where you taught. So old and creaky. They felt steeped in real life, with the kinds of things that brings people to church -- questions, fears, hopes, sadness, loneliness, enthusiasm, compassion, music, yearning.
I taught a mindfulness class with a dulcimer class across the hall. Who knew how sticky Frosty the Snowman could be? But as you say, all these outside circumstances are just more fodder for the work of paying attention and noticing our reactions.
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