Posted in yoga

Witnessing Stillness

I always feel privileged to be a yoga teacher: to watch students, to watch over them, to encourage and guide them.

Tonight there was a nice big crowd for Power Yoga. All of my best students, all the good breathers.

I led a lot of suns and variations on suns. It was intense. And because it was, savasana was particularly welcome.

And particularly deep.

As alive they were in the heat of their practice, they were that dead during savasana. Not a body moved. No one sniffed, or shifted, or twitched or itched.

I sat and watched over them. I watched their stillness. As the minutes passed, the room deepened. The silence became a real presence, hanging over each body, watching them, encouraging them ever deeper into secret places I could not imagine.

Author:

I’m a small town yoga teacher who says motherfucker a lot. I hate anything woo. I’m into neuroscience. And facts. I’ll lead the chanting of “om” sometimes, but it makes me feel awkward. I want to access flow states. As far as yoga helps me do that, I’m into it. Dopamine is my fave neurotransmitter. Don’t tell anyone I told you this.

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