OH THE NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!

The holidays and travels wrecked havoc with my yoga practice schedule.  When I showed up in class this week after a long hiatus, I was sore, stiff, and ready to dive back in.  Plus, I'd somehow developed some foot pain reminiscent of plantar fasciitis.  (Blaming the new boots I wore to walk many miles in downtown Seattle during a recent stay.) I asked our teacher, Elizabeth, if she could devote some time to foot pain issues.

Class was wonderful -- slow, gentle, therapeutic -- and my feet got lots of loving attention.  When it was time for savasana, I was eager to sink into a time of quiet meditation and gratitude.

Then the racket began.  There is construction going on across the already busy and sometimes noisy street in front of the studio.  But just as we settled onto our mats, a roaring sound emanated and continued for the whole time we lay on our mats.  It sounded like a gigantic lawnmower, or hedge trimmer, or hole borer -- an engine whining loudly.  It also sounded like it was aimed directly at the glass wall where I was cozied up on the street side of the studio.  I wondered if some behemoth machinery was going to breach the wall at some point and run me over.  (This is the mind of an anxiety-prone person; worst case scenarios prevail.)

When Elizabeth brought us out of the savasana she immediately acknowledged the "elephant" in the room.  (Yes!  Maybe it was a bellowing elephant!) and reminded us that conditions are not always perfect, but life in the moment is.  She suggested that when we are unexpectedly distracted by a sound like that, the idea is to lean into the sound, not try to mentally run from it or resent it.   It was then I realized that I'd had a tandem mind game going on in savasana.  Part of me just wanted to identify what it was; it was all I could do not to jump up and try to see through the frosted glass.  The other part of me heard the variations of the sound, paying attending to the waxing and waning of the droning engine, noting that the sound was quite varied and almost musical as the intonations went on.

It's easy to practice and meditate in what we might think of as "perfect" conditions -- all those photos of solitary yogis on mountaintops or beaches or forests.  But real life is not like that.  Our practice happens in living rooms, bedrooms, and noisy yoga studios.  Yoga is life and life is far from perfect.  Each moment is ours to inhabit, whether it be taking deep, calming breaths on a crowded elevator, standing to stretch after long hours in front of the computer, or meditating to the sounds of traffic.  The more we practice, the better we become at being free from attachments to expectations -- and the happier we will be, come what may. ©

Namaste,  donnajurene

Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com