Its a strange concept, yes, I know. Going to India, the birthplace of Yoga, to teach yoga to Indians. But, believe it or not, not one of the 1000 children that we taught yoga to, had any concept of what it was. The Headmaster brought the children to me, 100 at a time and on the dusty ground, packed them tightly onto large area rugs and had them remove their shoes. Every class, began the same. 100 children staring at me with intense curiosity and strict demeanour, wondering what it was that I would be asking of them. Earlier that morning we witnessed all 1000 children lined up in tight military style rows, stomping their foot when called to attention. With seriousness in their eyes, they brought their hands to their hearts and chanted together their most beautiful morning prayers. And now, I stood before them, feeling the same responsibility to lead them through an exercise that they had absolutely no concept of. I had some ideas in my head that I had planted earlier in the morning as to how the yoga would unfold, but those ideas didnt account for young girls in dresses and sardine-can tight conditions. Its a good thing Im so flexible! So, I began. In a typical call and response manner, I began each session the same way ive learned memory games with children when they were young. I call out one posture and demonstrate, then they repeat. I call it again but add another posture on, then they follow. I thought if I spoke only in sanskrit that they would understand. Seems that they didnt understand even that, but the sounds of their little voices repeating after me as they explored what it was like to move their bodies, was amazing. I witnessed children sitting patiently in front of me with deep, grey stares, come alive. And as the corners of their mouths lifted, so did the colour on their cheeks. Laughter ensued and by the end of each class, I had witnessed both boys AND girls together, playing, learning and exploring their bodies in happy and healthy ways. When we broke later in the day and I had a moment to catch my breath, I rushed over to the others to offer assistance with the extractions. I quickly shifted from head yoga teacher to head hand holder. My eyes quickly welled up with tears as I looked around and witnessed the impact of both the masculine and feminine energy that we were showing up in. Earlier in the day when we were in an emergency situation with one of the young boys, very sick from a mouth infection, my heart sank and I began to cry for so many reasons. But one of them was feeling into my own inadequency. I began to believe that what I was offering through the yoga was in no way possible, enough for these children. I began to doubt the ability for a yoga practice to make a difference in the lives of those that struggle to even find food or stay warm at night. And just as I was cuddling up next to a young girl that had just had the most rotten and painful teeth pulled from her mouth, tears of both pain and relief falling down her cheeks, she looked at me, brought her hands to her heart and said, yoga, with a half-frozen smile. And as the clinic went on that day, long after our yoga sessions had stopped, the courtyard that was filled for hours earlier that day with the sounds of sanskrit and laughter, was now filled with silence, occasionally broken with quiet whimpers. The lessons in that day were almost as many as the gratitudes in my heart. But if all of my lessons were distilled into just one, it would be that no matter what you can do and how your can serve, it matters.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 23:16:55 +0000