Rain is always cold to the skin, despite the temperature outside. The two do not run tandem.
I’m not sure when I last played in the rain. Yoga in the rain, well that is simply awesome. Wet yoga on a freshly manicured outfield of baseball stadium…well that leaves me thunderstruck.
Our master yogi was young, humorous, pretty, and blond. She set the intention for this class within the first few moments of turning on her mic. Joy. To find joy on this day, in this place. Despite the chance we may find ourselves in a down pour. Our time, our energy was not lost because of our circumstances. We would find joy within the chaos and hopefully utilize this lesson in our every day life. I chuckled…It seemed a bit
…dramatic.
At first the sprinkles were intermittent, barely kissing my skin. The sun, when peering through the billows of gray, was hotter than expected. Way hotter, like sear the skin off the bone hot. I realized, while holding downward dog, that I had not adequately prepared for the day. Rain would be a relief.
Looking up to find our instructor on the jumbo tron, my eyes stop on the lady in front of me wearing white pants and possessing a pillow of white hair atop her head. She was in her late sixties, maybe seventies. Fierce. (You have to be fierce to wear WHITE yoga pants!) While in a wide legged forward bend, with superb control and presision, she popped up into a handstand. Take my word for it. That is talent! Of the crowd of eighty or so, only four made the attempt. She was the only one with solid white hair.
The shower increased, making the easiest of poses, more extreme. My arms slipping off my legs. Eyes blinded by the mascara I applied with care earlier. Yet instead of frustration, or the need to compete with the amazing white pants in front of me, I found laughter. Laughter in the awe of the experience. Laughter because I’m well past the conventionally acceptable age to play in the rain. Yet, that was EXACTLY what I was doing.
Eventually, the sky opened up, claiming the day, causing our class to end ten minutes early. There was no use running to my car. Every inch of my body was already soaked. I tossed my flip flops and walked back barefoot avoiding rocks, openly laughing, squealing loudly as the rain picked up force.
I had no idea upon leaving my house this morning that I would find pure joy in the most obscure way. It wasn’t part of my expectation.
It shows that you can never predict where you will learn your next life lesson. You can only be open to the opportunity.
Mine?
You are never to old to play in the rain…to do yoga…on the outfield of a baseball stadium.
Be unconventional.
Learning to let the world around me to be whatever it needs to be: chaotic, rumbling, boisterous, wet….Somehow finding my inner peace, calmness and humor in the mist of it all. The outside can not influence the inside…unless I allow it.
Liberating.
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