Morning and evening yoga are two distinct animals, two completely different practices.
In the morning the body is stiff from sleep, (not to mention a bit hungry), and vulnerable to anything harsh, sudden or dissonant. A jarring sequence that might be overlooked or forgiven in the evening, is reviled and despised at 6 AM in the morning.
In the morning, the body needs to be treated with TLC and handled with care, or it just won’t start.
Just like my ’60 Ford Fairlaine when I was 16. That car was a total junker hand-me-down car from my mother, who had just gotten herself a Ford Maverick.
“Agnes,”as I called this cranky bitch of a car, took me where I wanted to go, IF I could get her started. But starting her was like trying to convince a kid that lima beans taste good.
I had to go out at least 20 minutes before my scheduled departure time and begin the starting-up procedure. This involved priming the gas, cranking the engine (but not overly-so), and listening for that little “catch” that indicated that ignition was imminent. If I fed it just the right amount of gas, at exactly the right moment: vroom! Start up!
If however, I tried to rush the process, I’d wind up flooding her, arriving late for school and earning a detention.
Morning yoga is exactly like Agnes. My students need to be “started up” in the morning, but not in any way that will flood them. Their crankcases are cold, and they’re hard to turn over. But about halfway through the hour, I usually can get most of them to ignite, to vrooom!
In the afternoon, it’s a whole different game. They either come limping in completely out of gas, or they burst in discharging sparks from their clothes and steam from their ears, and I almost have to take a towel and wrap it around my hands before I attempt to touch them and see what they need.
The morning yogarians need to be charged up by the practice (very slowly), whereas the evening people need to be carefully discharged.
It’s pretty damned cool to be a Yoga mechanic this month, I must say. I love sending a big fleet of charged up people out into their day. It’s almost as exciting as hosing down souped up engines in the afternoon.