There should always be room to giggle in yoga class.

So, I've been dabbling in yoga since I got to Santa Cruz for many reasons. One, there's a beautiful and friendly yoga studio very close to where I am staying (the kind of studio where most of the people look like real people, the teachers aren't scary, and with that distinct Santa Cruz vibe), my father has been quite in to yoga lately and encouraged me in the endeavor, and it's the closest things to dance that I've done in a long time. I've had a small amount of trouble with my hips for many years (a bit of wonky things in the blueprint of my skeleton, but nothing major) and after stopping dance in college and starting working out and running, I realize that I've been doing all the things that make the muscles tight and nothing that helps them learn to relax or even just move slowly and purposefully. Plus, you know, I'm me. I kind of like that meditation/spiritual stuff. I'm not going to become a total yogahead (I made that up) but I certainly have appreciated how good I've felt after the classes I've gone to here.

So, as I think I've mentioned here before, it's also kind of fun to be doing something at which I am a complete beginner. Already at this stage of my life, I'm not starting that many completely new things. Though sometimes I feel a little ungainly and out-of-place, for the most part, I like the experience because almost everything I do can be considered progress from my current state.  So, I go to the beginning level (well, the level 1-2 class) and am learning things like the fact that breathing is more complicated than I thought, and that I don't think I've fully straightened my legs in years -- and learning that a lot of the wonky and amazing poses in yoga take the kind of core strength that crunches just don't give you. It's not the superficial (and I use that word with absolutely no judgement - I mean it in the strictest sense of the word, i.e. surface level) ab strength that we strive for in the gym - it's much deeper and much harder and ultimately the kind of strength that will save all of us with the potential for back problems, which will be most of my generation with all of our laptop-typing and chair-slouching. Basically, I'm learning a lot. And even though I know it's not supposed to be about being able to do the poses- it's about inhabiting wherever it is you are, being in yourself, etc. etc. That being said, it's still pretty cool when you can pull off some of these poses.

So, yesterday, I was in the 1-2 class and we were working on crow pose. Yeah, click that link. Look at this insanity. Also beauty. Also, difficulty. And though it might not look like it and I did not believe it for a while, this pose is not about arm and shoulder strength. It's about that crazy kind of core strength I mentioned. Now, on another good day, I managed to hold that pose for about five seconds, which doesn't sound like much, but boy was it cool! But different days are, well, different - and you notice. We approached this pose in a different way than I have before (different teacher than the other day) and the teacher was encouraging us to take risks, explaining different things to pay attention to in the pose and also on your way to it, and I was listening and trying to do everything and concentrating and getting distracted and all of these things -- and then, look at those pictures of the pose. What does it look like is about to happen, or could at the drop of a feather? Yep. That happened. I fell on my head.

Now, when I heard that clunk and tumbled over like I haven't since playing leap-frog as a kid, I thought I heard a few other clunks around the room, like maybe I wasn't the only one who had actually gone heels over head down to the floor. And then, from my dad next to me and also from the teacher up front ( I swear she had been looking right at me, damn it) I heard just a few soft giggles. "Falling shows a willingness to learn!" she said from the front, smiling, as I unfurled myself and rubbed my head. And surprisingly, I giggled, too. As someone who has had a lot of intense times with shame and embarrassment, she lead the class so well and there was such gentleness in the room around me that I felt the embarrassment for about one second, one long second where my cheeks burned - and then, I decided to try it again, and it was all gone.

Teachers are so important - and it's so cool to see one who's good at what they do. It's a strange thing to compare this teacher to Miklos, one of my professors in Hungary, but they each are very good examples of teachers - leave room for mistakes, put things just out of easy reach so that students have to grow, and be there in a non-intimidating way so that when things happen (including the mathematical equivalent of falling on your head), people aren't afraid to look you in the eye five minutes later.