The Bridge

There’s a yoga jamboree in the world outside and I find myself withdrawing inside. A hesitant practice once again, mostly setubandh sarvangasana as my little everyday. Propped. Sometimes on a single bolster, sometimes using two bolsters and bricks to recuperate and reenergise. It helps ground me even as I push through seemingly unending tasks.

I missed class this week as I was travelling on work. I suppose I was also a little relieved after the last class. The previous session, I hid behind in the prop section after rushing through my sequence. It’s strange how sadness overcomes me in the hall. Only there. Outside, I’m marching forward and getting things done, keeping myself immersed in new work projects but at the institute, there is nothing to keep me from experiencing the moment.

All that I experience is a constricted throat, just a heavy sadness that threatens to spill out of my eyes. So I hide. Behind racks of blankets, shrinking myself into the wall. Therapy class is designed to treat ailments and discomforts of the body. Although I know it ultimately works on the mind even as the poses address specific areas in the body, I wonder what someone would say if one asked for a therapy class for the mind.

It’s international Yoga Day today and I find myself lost in the way this subject is evolving. It’s an industry today complete with AI driven prompts on screens. What will yoga look like in the next century? It reminds me of a talk given at the centennial celebrations that explored taking Iyengar yoga into the next millennium.

Eventually, I suppose it will boil down to us finding our own inner teacher.