Power

Yesterday I taught the first Power Yoga class scheduled at Maya Tulum, the grandmother of yoga studios here in Tulum, Mexico. Most days when I enter to teach, a calm 'Om' echoes tranquilly through my mind.  But the “Power” word rang in my ears when the manager asked if I could teach the class.  Of course I could teach the class but, “What if the students aren’t ready?” I asked.  “I mean, in my classes I don’t get too many ‘power’ types.” I continued.

 It was true.  Of the three years I had been teaching at what was not too many years ago an out right Ashram, I could easily count the number of times I had some power yogis.  Mostly, my students there  were more serious about basics, meditation and breathwork.  Many were people new to yoga and I took great pleasure in introducing to a practice.

“Let me know how it goes.” was the manager’s response.

I was excited and, to be honest, curious about who the title would attract.  I hoped for a group of power people, ones who would jump from crow into plank and come through their vinyasa lightly, ready for the next sequence.  I had planned the class with series upon series of movement to the rhythm of the breath.  We would dance through our practice and I became intimidated as I prepared.  Insecurity crept in. “What if they are not even challenged by the class?  What if I have been practicing in Tulum for too long with the same teachers and students.”  I knew that sometimes I felt stale.  I attributed it to not venturing out from Tulum, especially not to practice yoga. Twice a year, sometimes more often, I would go to Boston or New York and challenge myself there but I never went to classes in Playa del Carmen or Cancun or even other people’s classes in my own little pueblo.  I often preferred to stay in my own yoga world with my books and video’s and motivate myself. 

So, as I started to freak out and change my plan to include more challenging series, the voice of my guru came into my head and said, “the most powerful thing anyone can do is breathe”. 

I stopped.  I listened. And I thought about it.

That was the truth.  Breathing, finding the breath, is what is it all about no matter what physical power we have.  I let go of my class redesign and let myself be motivated by who came to the practice.  I took a deep breath and let myself be with the class and their abilities rather than the label.   I shared my intuition with them and reminded them that without the breath there is no yoga.  Without the breath there is no power.  Without the breath there is nothing.  I began the class as always, reminding people to take a moment to check in with your breath, appreciate it and enjoy it.  And on that day I reminded them that whatever your physical practice, your breath is your power yoga. So, breathe.

Salsa!!

It is Sunday night and I am relaxing when I hear music in the distance: salsa music.  It is coming from La Zebra and I am ready.  I was already at the 6 pm class so I have practiced my dance steps for tonight.  And, like a cobra rising to the tune of the flute, I pull myself out of the hammock and head downstairs to check my face.  I was already dressed.  I was only waiting.  Resting actually.  Salsa is a vigorous dance and I know I have an early Monday morning.  But somehow, I cannot resist.

I take my bicycle under the starlit street to La Zebra, feeling the pull of the music and the energy of the dance increase with each turn of the pedal.  When I reach the entrance, I see other people experiencing the same magnetic draw.  We all want to dance.  We all feel the rhythm and we move quickly through the sand to enter the restaurant.  I can see the band to my right as I enter and greet my friends.  The people here are friendly and they know I want to just dance.  To my right I can see the live band.  There are eight of them and they are grooving Cuban musicians.  They are the center of the heat that is rising from this place with the pure Latin salsa.  No one can stand still.  Even if you don’t want to dance you still have to move. 

I go through the restaurant and down the stairs to the beach and the dance platform: palm trees in the center reaching to the star filled sky and the new moon that is rising.  The dance floor is crowded but it is ok, I will be welcome.  I take the first hand that reaches for mine and I start to move.  Then I start to smile.  With each turn I feel a little lighter and my smile is a little bigger.  With each dip I feel a little more dramatic, more graceful and as I come out of a doble entschufla, I am beaming at having remembered my 1 and then 5.  I am still on beat and the beat in Tulum on a Sunday night is only at la Zebra’s, Latin Salsa party.