9:30 am
Mechanically, the yoga mats are dismembered from the shelves. One by one each unfold to reveal its green, lengthy body. Rain drops make their melodious way onto the roof, landing softly in a pitter-patter-ish attitude. Shuffling feet come to a standstill bringing a pillow thudding to the ground. Jackets and socks are thrown haphazardly to the side. The teacher is waiting. Class once again begins.
Bodies move every which way. Arms and legs flail about trying to keep balance. Stretching until you feel like you’re going to rip in half. Unexpectedly finding comfort in the strangest positions. This is yoga. Trying to keep the breath steady, music fills the ears and above all, one voice is heard keeping in time with the rhythm. The teacher. Her name is Yanzi. Her exuberant presence floods the small room with extreme happiness, joviality, and witty humor. She’s honestly the main reason why this experience was so amazing. You could almost see the glow which blinds out the greyness from outside. Time passes quickly as each pose melts seemingly into the next.
Every week on Tuesdays and Thursdays limbs get slightly more flexible. Every week on Tuesdays and Thursdays minds get slightly more relaxed. And especially every week on Tuesdays and Thursdays there is a Tuck and Jones free morning. It’s safe to say that it really is our own mini yoga retreat. Nobody wants this time to end. Luckily though, we have kombucha and our one and only favorite organic restaurant waiting downstairs for us.
10:30 am
Namaste.
Latest posts by Yve (see all)
- Fig Newtons - July 22, 2014
- Body Surfing with Indi - July 19, 2014
- Bonfires - July 17, 2014
7 Comments