Connection

When spring sprung a few weeks back there was a lot of focus in the studio on the wood element, of being grounded, regrowth and new beginnings, all fitting in rather nicely with the change of season. And at the heart of it was this idea of connection – with ourselves, family and friends, and life in general.

We worked on creating more strength and stability in our poses, providing a solid foundation from which we could go into the world better equipped, better connected, and, I’m taking a guess here, better equipped to connect. Which all makes perfect sense. When we’re in a better place ourselves we’re more open to others and their true selves.

My impression is that most of us spend time and effort working on our relationships with friends and family. We have a history together. Even if we don’t like each other all the time, we’re already part of each other’s stories. I wonder how often though, especially as we get older, we reach out to anyone else. Other than exercising basic courtesies as you interact with people throughout the day, it’s easier to keep a little distance. Anything else can almost seem like too much hard work.

Yet even some of the most fleeting connections I’ve made have become memories that have stuck around, that give me pleasure to remember. Sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes waaaaaay too much over sharing for 15 minutes in a waiting room… There was The Wonder Stuff* concert in London a million years ago (well, the early 90s) when as the band came onstage I was swept forward losing my friend and my bag. I was laughing so much that I didn’t even realise my feet weren’t on the ground and when I looked around I’d lost my friend. I mean really lost. I couldn’t see her anywhere, in any direction. It stopped being hilarious and I started feeling panicked. Everything was louder and I felt smaller, more vulnerable.

Out of the chaos I heard someone say, ‘it’s ok, it’s ok’ and over the tops of heads that someone was looking into my eyes and smiling and nodding (soberly, I’m pretty sure), and he kept eye contact until security did their thing and I hit the ground. I didn’t see him again but I was so grateful for that connection. And it was a connection. Because it was with a stranger doesn’t make it any less so. True, I wasn’t exactly going anywhere but I remember feeling safe and instantly calmed. Sometimes it’s easy to miss those moments, to let them pass by without any acknowledgement.

And no matter how small those moments, they must mean something. When we look into another person’s eyes and see them see us, isn’t that a validation that we’re visible, that we matter?

One of the gifts of yoga for me is the ease in which strangers can so quickly become real people, who become friends. How often are you savasana-ing away before class when someone comes and, ahem, impinges on your personal space? Too close! your neurotic little mind is hissing. Then you breathe; you inhale, you exhale, you begin. And when you turn to face them by accident because, yet again, you’ve gone right instead of left or you end up falling out of a balancing posture in unison, it’s easy to smile at each other. For that short amount of time you’re on the same team and there’s genuine warmth.

Somehow yoga aims a perfectly pointed foot at the usual social restraints and gives them a gentle, yet firm shove out the way. It allows us a shortcut to friendship. Do you find this too? Do you wonder why? (Maybe it’s the lack of clothes. It is quite hard to hide behind a teensy yoga top in front of full-length mirrors.)

Whether we deepen our connections with those people already in our lives or whether we allow ourselves to enjoy new connections with transitory kindred spirits, we should let ourselves see and be seen. Which is ultimately what we all want anyway, isn’t it? So spring into renewal and summer and all that jazz but let’s not get overwhelmed. We should remember to slow down and just enjoy the music – it’s a symphony out there.

– Jane

* I LOVED these guys. Hup and Never Loved Elvis were permanently in my car’s tape deck. TAPE DECK! I am so old.

©The Yoga Connection