Tuesday, November 30, 2010

yep, i sing in class.

it happens like this…i’m in a vinyasa class. maybe i’m teaching, maybe i’m a student. the flow is in full force, the heat is happening. there’s a break in the music, and then…i hear it. a sound so mesmerizing, so thoroughly entrancing…no, it’s not the breath. and it’s not the silence. it’s the song. that song, whichever one it might be on that day. you know the one. the one you can’t resist, you can’t hold back, no matter how intense your ujjayi or stern your teacher…you have to sing along.

if you’ve never taught a class set to music, you might not be aware of the meticulous work that goes into creating a playlist. continuity of rhythm, sounds that grow and ebb with the structure of the practice, and lyrics that add to the flow of positive energy are all taken into consideration when compiling a soundtrack that encourages movement and breath. and there’s always the big question: to connect or not to connect? do i use songs my students are probably familiar with, songs that may stir memories or emotion? or do i choose to put together an obscure tapestry of sounds that roll across the room without creating that wave effect? isn’t our asana practice supposed to help us progress toward meditation, the highest form of yoga? how can we do that with sarah mclachlan distracting us? and who is to know what another person will associate with, anyway? the teachers i love are the ones who love yoga and teaching and everything they allow in their lives. and they create great playlists.

laughter is one of the most transformative functions of human existence. the way i see it, singing is like laughing to music. it’s joyful. it’s exuberant. it’s a celebration. what better place for joy than within the joyously sacred walls of our yoga room? it’s the third of the four immeasurables: love, compassion, joy, and equanimity; each of which we should possess in immeasurable quantities if we are to eliminate desire and ego on our path to samadhi. sympathetic joy (which is really what the immeasurables refer to) begins with personal joy. delight in the goodwill of others finds no place in someone who isn’t delighted with the will they’ve created for themselves. that’s why love and compassion come before.

whether intended or not, there is almost always sure to be something a student will relate to in a soundscape. songs have been known to cause students to laugh, cry, and even leave class with their nose wrinkled up and their fingers in their ears. sometimes a soundtrack I don’t relate to (read: like) even becomes my edge for a practice, external “chatter” prompting me to find the ability to observe the “noise” without reacting. but sometimes, just sometimes, the overwhelming sense of joy in a song compels me to belt it out, to celebrate, exuberate…and even...yes, meditate.

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