I just came home from the hardest yoga class I’ve ever taken, and it didn’t involve any movement.
As part of their grand reopening, Body Balance is offering free classes all weekend. On Friday night, the Williamsburg studio offered free meditation with Shomer Zwelling, who also happens to be one of my instructors in my teacher training.
Thirty minutes of meditation. How hard could that be? I’d done meditation for five, maybe 10 minutes, on my own and in yoga classes. As I sat down on the big black poof in front of me, I was eager, excited and intimidated.
I repeat: Hardest. Class. Ever.
Shomer began the meditation with a simple question. Where were you 14 years ago today? 14 years ago on September 11.
Where were you?
And I thought about my nine-year-old self, sitting in my fourth grade classroom in Dry Ridge, KY.
Then he asked another question. Where are you now?
In my mind, I followed that question with, who would've thought I'd be here?
At this point, I’m physically uncomfortable on the poof. I can feel pain radiating down my back – is it normal to have pain sitting like this? – the tingle is moving up and down my legs and feet, threatening to put my toes to sleep, and the cough I’ve had for a week is starting to creep into my throat and is threatening to escape, disturbing the peace. Every time I move, the tiny little beads inside the poof move too, and I want to shush them and shush myself.
Shomer then directs our attention to our jaw line. Feel the energy of the jaw, he says. Is it strong? Is it tight? Where does it start? Where does it stop? What other energy fields does it connect to?
Then comes the really tough part. He says to us, focus on your breath. Let your mind follow the breath. If your mind starts to wander – to another place, a memory, a chore, a body part, the future, the past, wherever – acknowledge it, and then let it go, taking the mind by the hand and bringing it back to the breath.
Do this for 15 minutes.
And so begins 15 long, agonizing minutes of me fighting with my mind. It sounded something like this:
Fifteen minutes. He’s kidding. That’s forever. Do you think it’ll go by fast? Breath. Focus on the breath. There you go. Good. I wonder if it’ll feel like 15 minutes has gone by. How am I going to write about this in my blog? Stop. Back to your breath. Wow, never realized there were so many different ways to breathe. How do people do this? My foot is numb, I better move it. Is my back supposed to feel like this? I’m not doing this right. Wait, I think I have it! Breathe, Marie. Yep, there you go. Oh no, I want to cough so bad. Those people in the hallway talking are disturbing me. How rude. Let it go, just breathe.
And so on. For 15 minutes.
Honestly, it went by faster than I thought. But it was tough.
After 15 minutes, he spoke again.
What are you grateful for? Hold that in your mind, savor it for a few breaths, and then let it go, asking yourself again, what are you grateful for?
Then he asked, who is meditating? Well, I decided I didn’t like that question, critiqued it for few breaths, fidgeted a bit, and then went back to the gratefulness question.
And finally, finally, we finished, coming back into the present (well, I’ve been here the whole time because I suck at this meditation thing, I thought).
Afterward, I said I told the small group that was the hardest yoga class I’ve ever taken. One of the Body Balance instructors – who was shaking her numb legs awake – said to me, “This is why we yoga.”
And I paused, to think about how I felt, physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally in the moment, after 30 minutes of meditation.
And I felt happy, and safe, and comforted, and okay.
As part of their grand reopening, Body Balance is offering free classes all weekend. On Friday night, the Williamsburg studio offered free meditation with Shomer Zwelling, who also happens to be one of my instructors in my teacher training.
Thirty minutes of meditation. How hard could that be? I’d done meditation for five, maybe 10 minutes, on my own and in yoga classes. As I sat down on the big black poof in front of me, I was eager, excited and intimidated.
I repeat: Hardest. Class. Ever.
Shomer began the meditation with a simple question. Where were you 14 years ago today? 14 years ago on September 11.
Where were you?
And I thought about my nine-year-old self, sitting in my fourth grade classroom in Dry Ridge, KY.
Then he asked another question. Where are you now?
In my mind, I followed that question with, who would've thought I'd be here?
At this point, I’m physically uncomfortable on the poof. I can feel pain radiating down my back – is it normal to have pain sitting like this? – the tingle is moving up and down my legs and feet, threatening to put my toes to sleep, and the cough I’ve had for a week is starting to creep into my throat and is threatening to escape, disturbing the peace. Every time I move, the tiny little beads inside the poof move too, and I want to shush them and shush myself.
Shomer then directs our attention to our jaw line. Feel the energy of the jaw, he says. Is it strong? Is it tight? Where does it start? Where does it stop? What other energy fields does it connect to?
Then comes the really tough part. He says to us, focus on your breath. Let your mind follow the breath. If your mind starts to wander – to another place, a memory, a chore, a body part, the future, the past, wherever – acknowledge it, and then let it go, taking the mind by the hand and bringing it back to the breath.
Do this for 15 minutes.
And so begins 15 long, agonizing minutes of me fighting with my mind. It sounded something like this:
Fifteen minutes. He’s kidding. That’s forever. Do you think it’ll go by fast? Breath. Focus on the breath. There you go. Good. I wonder if it’ll feel like 15 minutes has gone by. How am I going to write about this in my blog? Stop. Back to your breath. Wow, never realized there were so many different ways to breathe. How do people do this? My foot is numb, I better move it. Is my back supposed to feel like this? I’m not doing this right. Wait, I think I have it! Breathe, Marie. Yep, there you go. Oh no, I want to cough so bad. Those people in the hallway talking are disturbing me. How rude. Let it go, just breathe.
And so on. For 15 minutes.
Honestly, it went by faster than I thought. But it was tough.
After 15 minutes, he spoke again.
What are you grateful for? Hold that in your mind, savor it for a few breaths, and then let it go, asking yourself again, what are you grateful for?
Then he asked, who is meditating? Well, I decided I didn’t like that question, critiqued it for few breaths, fidgeted a bit, and then went back to the gratefulness question.
And finally, finally, we finished, coming back into the present (well, I’ve been here the whole time because I suck at this meditation thing, I thought).
Afterward, I said I told the small group that was the hardest yoga class I’ve ever taken. One of the Body Balance instructors – who was shaking her numb legs awake – said to me, “This is why we yoga.”
And I paused, to think about how I felt, physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally in the moment, after 30 minutes of meditation.
And I felt happy, and safe, and comforted, and okay.