The Power of Plenty

One of the fun things (and there are many) about being a yoga teacher is seeing a group of people follow your spoken direction with their body movements. I say, "Swoop your arms overhead," and the room fills with flying birds' wings. "Float into forward bend" creates an exhalation of movement toward the ground. It is a truly beautiful thing to see. But once in a while I like to throw a curve ball and see what happens. Instead of starting with the right leg as usual, I ask them to step back with their left leg first. Some comply without a thought. Others make a little scribbling motion with their hand to determine which side is the left. And a few protest. "Don't you mean our right leg?"

So what's the difference? Are the folks who follow the direction seamlessly the ones with the most resilience, or are they avid rule-followers? Are the protesters rigid and afraid of change, or are they just comfortable with routine? And those who don't quite know their right from their left (me!) probably never even noticed that they usually stepped their right leg back first. Are they flibberty-gibbets? Or just relaxed?

The answers are: Who knows. Probably some of each. It doesn't much matter. What does matter is practicing in a group of people with varying abilities and viewpoints and expectations, and learning a little something about yourself in the process. That something is missing when one practices yoga alone. (Yes, a personal practice is important and useful; so try a bit of each!) The group dynamic is powerful and empowering, as long as competition is kept out of the equation. Moving together, breathing together, finding stillness together. The same, yet different.

Inhale your arms overhead and reach into the sky! Grab a star and exhale as you hand it to the person on the mat next to you. Right hand, left hand, it doesn't matter.

"Hmmm, I think she's breaking some sort of rule. Teacher said to cross our legs!"

Yes, I Can! And so can you.

I recently returned from western New York after completing a week of service, building a deck and ramp for a man and his young son so that their cousin, wheelchair-bound, would be able to visit.  What made this week so special was the all-female work team we had this year.  The girls had participated in service projects in the past, but always with boys on their team -- teenaged boys with no more building experience than the girls had, but with a lot more confidence and a feeling that they were doing “man’s work” and as men, were magically adept at it.  During our last night wrap-up, I heard these comments from our young ladies: 

Other years, we always did what the boys told us; mostly the stuff they didn’t want to do.  This year, we asked what was the next step, and our leader handed us the plan and told us to go to it.  And we did!

The girls returned home glowing with empowerment, basking in the knowledge that they could, indeed, do man’s work without actually being men.  Maybe this experience will plant the seed that there does not need to be a dividing line between men and women; that although it takes four girls to hoist a heavy deck platform which three boys could have hefted with ease, still, the girls could do it; that there is no need to settle for leftovers.  Most of the girls will age out of the program after this, but next time they work side by side with men I hope they will remember this week, and take up that chop saw (or spatula, or pen, or steering wheel) with confidence and the knowledge that they can.  And that what they do with skill does not detract from what anyone else does. And that the masculine/feminine yin and yang swirl together so beautifully to make a circle, the yin curling around the yang and the yang filling the spaces in perfect balance, just as men and women working together fit perfectly.  And if we each allow the other to shine, the scales will be even and the world will spin ever more smoothly.