Real Friends Do Yoga

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Real Friends Do Yoga
May 28, 2003

“You don’t do yoga?” He didn’t try to hide his doubt.

“Nope.” I said.

“Then how do you stay in shape?” He eyed me up and down.

“I run… from yoga classes.” I giggled.

“Then, why are you here?” He asked. “This is about yoga, isn’t it?” He looked around the room to be sure that he was at the right event.

“I’m a friend of the yoga-author.” I smiled.

“I bet her REAL friends do yoga.” He said, insinuating that I don’t support my friend’s endeavors.

“Well, I’m holding out.” I smiled so politely, declining the chance to define friendship. Friendship: Never having to do yoga, even if your friend is a master teacher.

People were streaming in to the Tattered Cover events hall, which was not just the largest independent book store in the Denver area, but in the world. It was an author’s dream to be invited to hold a book signing here.

I stopped Charles, the events coordinator. “You may as well reserve a spot for MY book signing right now.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, ever ready to play.

“My favorite literary agent just asked for more samples of my writing. Why don’t you pencil me in for a Thursday night, a year from now?”

“I’ll keep that night open.” He laughed.

I found a seat over on the side where I could heckle. Isn’t that what friends are for?

People were filling in the empty seats. We were up to one hundred and forty audience members when Bija walked out. She was impeccably suited in her designer dress and walking confidently in spiked heels. She picked up the microphone.

The women behind me were mumbling. “How can a yoga teacher wear heels without wobbling?”

I wasn’t surprised. My friend could do lots of things.

She was giving a book talk on her recently released book, Emotional Yoga. It is an incredible book about, um, yoga and, um, the emotions. But. It is more than some cry baby book. Really. It is how doing yoga can help you release emotions, and deal with your emotions, so you can understand them better. I know. I should probably carry this book around with me everywhere I go. I know. Maybe we all should.

One of Bija’s many gifts includes public speaking. I mean. The woman doesn’t even need a podium. I know. I always like to have something to lean on and something to hide behind. But. Nope. Not her. She was able to stand in front of that group like she owned them. Um. She kinda did. People were eagerly writing down everything she said and leaning into her words.

See. I already knew a lot of the stuff that she was talking about. I already knew that she gave Wayne Dwyer his first yoga lesson many years ago, and that she worked with Deepok Chopra for ten years in his medical center, and that she learned yoga in India from some big masters who really knew their stuff.

I mean. Come on. We’re writing pals. We had been hanging out for years. We love to take big thick notebooks and sit in little quaint cafes and drink big mugs of sweat tea and write down whatever comes to mind. We have run more writing ideas past each other than either of us could ever count.

But. Really. She was impressing me. Could she talk yoga, or what? I know. She doesn’t just DO yoga, she KNOWS yoga, and she can TEACH yoga. Um. That’s a lot of yoga, if you ask me. I was very comfortable just passively sitting and listening as her words took on postures of their own. She was incredibly entertaining. Little jokes. Children’s books. Candles. Stories.

No. I had never taken a yoga class. I really didn’t have an interest in it. So. I was kind of surprised when she reached the audience participation segment of her talk. Um. I agreed to come along because she was my friend. I didn’t agree to DO yoga. Hey. Was this a trick?

She had us close our eyes. Ok. No problem. I can do that. Ha. Close my eyes? I do that all the time. I’m good at that. Was that yoga? Easy as pie. We were led through a series of breathing and counting exercises. Yeah. I had trouble thinking about not wanting to participate. I had to concentrate on breathing and counting. Then we had to stand. One foot forward. One foot back.

She smiled at us as she kicked off her heels. “I am going to lead you through a series of chants.”

The women behind me whispered. “Look. She doesn’t need those heels after all.”

“Repeat after me.” She commanded.

No way. She can’t make me repeat anything. I came to heckle.

She took a deep breath and pivoted forward. “Hridayay mayee. The heart that lies in me.”

The whole room echoed her words. How did they say that H word? What was it again?

“Hridayay mayee.” She repeated.

The room echoed. “Hridayay mayee.”

Over and over again.

Ok. So. I joined in. Because. Everyone else was. And. I didn’t want to be that kid who was always doing the wrong thing.

When it was time to sit down again, we all moved together. We had become a group of one. We moved together and breathed together.

Bija spoke for a few more minutes about Viniyoga, the branch of yoga that she does. We were intensely quiet.

“I would like to invite all of you to my champagne reception to help me celebrate the release of my book.” She said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

The audience all gasped together. Free champagne?

I know. Nobody told me that yoga could be so easy. And. Well. Even though champagne doesn’t really agree with me, I was game. Because. Maybe celebrating her book wasn’t the only order of the night. I had just taken my first yoga class. Well. Not really. But I had tapped into yoga for the first time. Surely that was worth celebrating?

And. Now, rather than running from yoga classes, maybe I was ready to start procrastinating the consideration of my next class.

But. Hey. There’s no rush, is there?

(For more information on Bija, her book, and workshops that she teaches, go to her website.)

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About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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