I know this is mostly a yoga blog, but every once in awhile I find something so beautiful and inspiring, I need to include it. This concert was one of those experiences. I love the lines of his poem, “everything has a crack in it, that is how the light gets in.”

I think this is a very yogic thought - the ‘crack’ is like the mid line, the seam.  Another way to think of it is that all of us are somehow wounded, but that might not be a bad thing, in fact it may be the thing that somehow opens us up to our own humanity. You know when you realize that your biggest ‘weakness’ is also your greatest asset?

I have been recently hired at a corporation to teach a yoga class once a week. My contact at the company has politely asked that I not include any partner work. Apparently, he has been asked by several people to make sure that they don’t have to touch each other. I’m sure this a common concern, and of course I will honor their request.

I normally love to teach partner work, there is so much we can help each other with. There are lots of poses one can approach with a partner’s help that may not be possible on our own. So many stretches that feel great that can only work with someone else. Also, it teaches us to both offer help and receive it. It builds relationships within a workplace and a community in the yoga class itself.

I have my own story about being a student that does not want to do partner work.

I was working in the film industry a number of years ago, as a Location Manager. The film business has been a male dominated one, but not the only workplace that sometimes turns a blind eye to sexual harassment.  I had been to the director’s hotel room to show him some pictures for a difficult to find location, and had been literally chased around the room before escaping with my small shred of dignity. I was on my way to the Friday evening beginning of a weekend yoga workshop. Feeling slimed, ashamed (why? I don’t know) and not really crazy about men, I tried to shake it off.

About half way through the evening, the teacher asked us to pair up for a pose. The person next to me and looking straight at me was - you guessed it- a man. Oh god I thought - the last thing I wanted was to be touched by a strange man. I was about to ask him to pick someone else when I looked him in the eye, and saw an earnest, gentle, human being. I still wasn’t keen, and although I do feel I would have been completely justified in saying no - I didn’t.

As we mindfully, carefully and respectfully worked through the poses together, I felt myself feeling the sliminess start to slip away. I felt the shame in my body start to disappear. I felt safe and a healing start to take place. I felt I had some power back, and I was able to address the situation at work more quickly because of this experience.

To be touched in a non sexual, but physical way is a gift. Yoga has been brilliant for me in this way. I have come to love my body from a place of self respect, for what it can do and how I feel inside it. Many of us have had unwanted physical attention or abuse. Many of us are observers of our bodies, critiquing them for how they look, constantly observing ourselves from the vantage point of the male gaze.

Yoga teaches us to see the body as sacred, the thing that will carry us through this life. It helps us to be present in the body, to notice our feelings, to experience physical pleasure outside of sex.

I know that not everyone wants to be touched by their friends or co workers. I can teach a class without partner work for these people. I’m just not sure they know how much they will miss.

   Partner Back Bend at John Friend workshop. 2008

I have read accounts of people’s first yoga experiences, and many times these writer’s have felt they loved yoga from the first class. I remember feeling this also, like I was floating, yet also keenly aware of my grounded physical presence.

I was also 23 years old and my body was healthy. My mental state was another matter, but along the way yoga has helped me in this regard also.

I had a student speak up recently when I asked during a class if anyone had questions. She said “when does this start to feel good?” We were doing downward dog at the time and while I could help her a little with her shoulders, I thought and thought about her question.

She is about 35 years old or so, working at a corporate job downtown and had a baby who is about 10 months old. The baby has many problems and requires oxygen. She carries the baby and the oxygen most places and the sorrow of a sick child everywhere. Another student in a different class told me of her migrane headaches and how if she isn’t in class for awhile I shouldn’t worry because she has to stay in bed for long stretches of time till they pass.

My heart is expanding by just getting to know these people and I know each student has a story. I look for ways to help ease even a little pain, but so much is going on for many people in our classes.

When did yoga start to feel good for you?