I tried. I really did. I chose a studio I'd never ventured to and a class that fit (or so I thought) into my schedule. I drove hastily through the rain, looking forward to not only a new studio experience to savor and share, but to a bit of solace in what had felt like a torturous day of combatting a willful 4-year-old.

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Unfortunately, as I approached the city that held my studio choice - almost dangling it before my nose- the rain and after-work traffic combined to a sour mixture that spelled out the awful truth; I was not going to make it to class in time. Not even in a 'sneak in just before the doors lock' kind of time. I pulled over to stop the bleeding (no sense in driving any further at this point) and to reassess the situation.

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We've all been there. A traffic jam, a cold or injury the day we were set to head to a class. Or maybe you did get to the studio on time, but not having reserved a spot ("Why, bother - It nevers fills up!") you are turned away. Possibly the teacher had to cancel with short (or no) notice.

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I realized that although I wouldn't be making it to a studio I'd not yet experienced, I was out and could use the time to attend a class -any class- at a nearby studio. I hopped online to the Yoga - West of the Narrows Yoga Directory  at www.yogawestofthenarrows.com to quickly review all the classes going on that evening. The good news; my website is super efficient. The bad news; that night in particular didn't offer me choices unless I were to hang out much later than intended.

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I realized then why going to a studio is so fulfilling to me. It places me out away from the chaos of my home and the list of things I 'should' be doing and intertwines me with people who understand how personal a Yoga practice is. With a teacher to guide and instruct and music other than my own, it's refreshing and also raw. I am no longer all the hats I wear when I practice at a studio.

 

But is that Yoga? It's certainly not the core.

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Is it not true that if we took a monk off the mountaintop, threw him in a neighborhood full of barking dogs with a mortgage and kids to raise that he too may not be so zen? Wouldn't his/her light dampen a bit and weariness set in?

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You see, THAT is where Yoga occurs.

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On a mat in my living room where an animal is sure to join in, where I blow dog hair out of the way and pause my music to grab said 4-year-old a snack mid-triangle pose. Where solace comes from a eyeful of nature through a window as Spongebob and lego wars blare in the background.

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Practicing amidst the chaos, not because you must but because you choose to give back to your Self, is the heart of a home practice.

 

Sure we can pay to head to a studio, pay to pretend that the world isn't messy, inconvenient and disturbing, but where's the reality in that? The real Yoga is animated when life is just as vibrant. Real Yoga would be NOT blocking out Spongebob on my mat, but allowing it to integrate into my reality of the moment. Allowing thoughts to arise and noticing the theme of them, while questioning whether they are still (or ever were) true and should be adhered to or let go. Interuptions and variables can be a practice in learning to accept and refusing to resist.

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As much as my appreciation goes far and wide for the local studios (THANK YOU, YOU'RE ALL AWESOME!) as they work to provide a safe place for those who need time for themselves (and maybe a bit of guidance), I cannot undermine the value of taking a practice home.

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Integrating Yoga into the reailty of your life, and not segregating it to a zen mountaintop of a studio is no easy task, but well worth the feat. If you haven't already, I suggest creating the closest thing possible to a studio experience within your own home. Stay tuned for this month's e-newsletter on how to make this possible no matter what excuses you've chewed on in the past. You will grow in mind, body and spirit - just as intended when you first stepped on a mat, most likely in a studio.

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Namaste, Yogis!