YOGA

is a Prayer

BY KELLYN MCGEE

I remember the first few times I tried Svarga Dvijasana or “Bird of Paradise” pose soon after I started practicing yoga. I would watch the teacher and other students get into the pose so easily and I wanted to do it. I wanted to fly, in paradise. But I couldn’t. So, I gave up, telling myself, “my body doesn’t work like that.”

Recently I attended a class where the teacher hadn’t even cued the pose. We were doing one of its preparatory poses and something about my body felt open, ready. And I thought, “I wonder….” And I got into it. Easily. Now, this first one isn’t quite “perfect” in the “social media” kind of way. But, for me, it’s the perfect expression of the pose because I just let my body get me there.

One pose I have been able to get into pretty easily since my first attempt, also early in my practice, is Ardha Chandrasana or “Half Moon” pose. It is my favorite balancing pose. But that isn’t to say it’s always easy or that I always land this variation of it. Some days the best I can do is keep my bottom hand on the mat, or, more modified, on a block.

My experiences with both these poses serve as a metaphor for my journey of self-love. The “easy to do” is always an easy choice. But that isn’t growth. And growing in love with self requires stretching, falling, trying again. Otherwise the easy becomes stagnant.

But let’s not overlook the “easy.” We should allow — and definitely need – a place of comfort to return to. Without it, we might give up altogether. Soon after I became a yoga teacher a friend asked me to teach her staff after work. Half an hour, once a week. I said yes, even though I was nervous and

unsure of myself as a teacher. I got to meet the staff before the classes started, so I knew their experience with yoga (minimal, for most) and their interest (some were, some weren’t). I quickly had regulars and we showed up for each other every Wednesday, from 5:00 to 5:30. It became something I looked forward to. It was easy.

Several months later, a friend who owned a studio asked if I could take over classes for a teacher who was leaving. ClassES. Seventy-five minutes each, twice a week! I’d been teaching a short class to people who had never taken yoga before and now I was being offered “real” classes in a studio to people who might have been practicing longer than me. And I was supposed to teach for more than twice the length of what I was used to. I said yes, still nervous, still unsure. I soon had regulars in my longer classes and I enjoyed preparing for and leading those, too. Each class I taught helped inform the others. The shorter class helped me build the more challenging classes and preparing the longer classes helped me make the shorter one less routine. I don’t know if I would have agreed to help my friend if I hadn’t already been teaching those shorter classes regularly. I needed the easy, comfortable class in order to agree to the one I had to stretch to teach. I needed each of the classes, each week.

When I think of how yoga has stretched me (and not just the poses), I hear my mentor-teacher saying, “Practice, and all is coming.” That’s the message she left when I posted my Bird of Paradise on social media, along with comments about how I struggled, gave up, and one day my body opened up without me thinking too much about it. This is a principle of yoga, one that extends beyond the mat. If we continuously practice love to ourselves — doing the comfortable when we need to, stretching and trying the thing that we think we’re not capable of doing or we’re too vulnerable to let go — all is coming. And that “all” is great love.

WHEN I THINK OF HOW YOGA HAS STRETCHED ME (AND NOT JUST THE POSES), I HEAR MY MENTORTEACHER SAYING, “PRACTICE, AND ALL IS COMING.”