I am fortunate to work in a school where many teachers also teach yoga. And often, as they work on their certification or their practice, they have offered free yoga classes after school for staff. In fact, this has been going on for years (with interruptions) through many generations of teachers. Whether in the library, music room or a classroom, we push back the tables, roll the carpet, sweep the floor (yuk) and put down mats and blocks.
My current school yoga teacher is Katie. Tiny, olive skinned, braid down her back, muscled as a fist. And kind, so kind. The participants range in age from 20’s to 60’s (that latter would be me) and all are made to feel equally welcomed, successful, and beloved in the universe.
(Side note: Katie does this to her first graders, too. And you should hear her read aloud Junie B. Jones. She relishes, she inhabits, she IS Junie B.!)
Anyway, today I was a mess. My allergies are rampant and my meds insufficient. I couldn’t breathe. I had damp Kleenex tucked in my sleeve all day (yuk.) Kids were looking at me with concern and asking if I was OK. But at 3:30 I got my mat from the classroom closet, changed into stretchier clothes in the little girl’s bathroom, and went to yoga.
And felt great. Not right away. At first my nose was dripping during my down dog (yuk.). But soon I realized I was breathing. I mean properly, through my nose! And I felt open and clear. And strong.
So for today’s slice, I say, “Thanks, Katie.”