(Originally posted Dec 3, 2015)
As far as I know, Henry David Thoreau wasn’t a practicing yogi. That doesn’t necessarily mean that some of his beliefs and writings don’t align with the practice that millions around the world participate in every day. It may seem like a stretch, but the similarities between some of Thoreau’s writing and a number of true beliefs in a yoga practice overlap surprisingly well.
This all started after being home for a week and not being able to get to a studio to practice. Instead, I was practicing in little corners of 24-hour fitness gyms that I could find a little solitude in. I was practicing alone on our back patio when it was nice out. For the first time since starting my yoga practice, I wasn’t in a studio or with a group; I was alone and occasionally outside continuing my practice. So when I arrived back to Denver after 8 days away, I made sure one of the first things I did the next morning was go to a class at a studio. I found a new appreciation for the others in the class and found a new appreciation for the teachers that instruct.
This reaffirmation of my appreciation for practicing in a group grew even larger after taking a sculpt class with Ashley F. at the Corepower Yoga Studio on Broadway. She began her class with a brief comment regarding mindfulness and the idea of being your “best self.” Ashley told us all about the song she heard the other day and the line, “who are you when I’m not looking,” to which her response was initially, “well, that’s dumb. I’m still me.” But further examination of those simple lines reminded her about when she’s alone, sitting in her car stuck in traffic. Is that the same Ashley F. that we see in front of class or behind the desk at the yoga studio? Is that Ashley F. the same one we see out and about, at King Soopers or a restaurant on a Friday night? So as class commenced, she challenged us to be our “genuine selves” as much as we could, and asked us, “When no one else is looking, are you still your best self?” This is a great question that I have been trying to keep present in my mind since that class ended. I’m thankful that I decided to take that sculpt class on Tuesday, and as so many other yoga teachers have said before, that class would not have been the same without every single person being there.
With this reaffirmed appreciation not only for my own practice but for the community of practicing yogis in Denver and Boulder that I have surrounded myself with, I started thinking about appreciation for other things off the mat. There are so many things to be grateful for and show gratitude towards in our everyday lives that I think most of us take for granted. I am thankful for my body (although sometimes we don’t exactly see eye to eye) which allows me to get up every morning, practice yoga, go for bike rides, lift heavy things, all of that. Sure there are times where I think I can do better, but that appreciation for what I have and what I am capable of I don’t think ever really leaves. Yoga isn’t a practice of always being happy and not letting anything bother you. It’s about recognition of those frustrating moments, being in the moment of anger or frustration, and letting go of it once it does not serve you any longer. The world isn’t sunshine and rainbows, and I don’t think any yogi truly believes that it is. I think most believe that there is more to be thankful for than we are, and they come across as happy-go-lucky, pie in the sky idealists with no sense of realization. Traffic frustrating you? Good, curse and get angry. But then let it go and realize that there’s nothing you can do about it, it’s not the end of the world, and continue on with your life like that traffic never happened.
And this is where Thoreau comes in: that appreciation for what we have. In his essay “Walking,” originally given as a lecture in 1851, he talks about the not-so-simple act of taking a walk….sauntering. Now, Thoreau’s a little intense about walking, and I’m not saying we need to view every little element of our lives with the same intensity as Thoreau did when it came to walking, but he has a few great points (as hyperbolic as they may seem). In his essay, he claims that, “If you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man; then you are ready for a walk.” That’s a tall order to fill just to go for a stroll, but he has a point. If a person lives their life the right way, in such a way where they are constantly living in the present moment and not worrying about the future, then going for a walk is no big deal; all their debts, all their affairs are already in order since they’ve lived their life that way from the start. This appreciation for walks also leads to more appreciation of other things in your own life as well. Especially today, those who can find joy in a simple act of walking will be more appreciative and find joy in a number of other day to day routines more so than the person who constantly needs to be stimulated or staring at a screen. Be thankful that you can go for a walk.
He also appreciates the fact that he has the freedom to go for walks, write, and do what he sees appropriate. Later, he states, “When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shop-keepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them—as if the legs were made to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon—I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago.” Replace mechanics and shopkeepers with office workers in cubicles, and that statement is just as relevant in 2015 than it was in 1851. He’s not just in awe of the men who are able to actually do this day in and day out, but thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t have to. He’s thankful that he isn’t stuck inside day in and day out, so how does he show that gratitude? By taking mile-long walks every day.
He then turns his attention to being present. And that’s one of the biggest reminders we all hear in a yoga class; be in the moment, connect with your breath, leave the outside world outside and don’t worry about what you have to do after class is over. Just be here for the duration of class and you will get infinitely more out of it than naught. For Thoreau, his walks usually lead him into the woods. But it’s not just the act of getting to the woods that was important for Thoreau. “Of course, it is of no use to direct our steps to the woods, if they do not carry us thither. I am alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit.” For me, at least, this is one of the hardest parts about my practice. I oftentimes find my mind wandering in Yin classes or in Savasana. I think of what I need to do after class, or how well class went, or what I could have done better. Thoughts constantly run through my mind when my body is still. But Thoreau puts it simply: “What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods?” What business do I have in a yoga class if I am thinking about grocery shopping or work or what I’m going to have for dinner?
Later in his essay, he returns to the thought and notion of living in the present. Just like the person’s who’s affairs are in order and is ready to take a walk, or the person who has walked into the woods thinking about the woods and nothing else, Thoreau firmly believes that, “We cannot afford to not live in the present. He is blessed over all mortals who loses no moment of the passing life in remembering the past.” This is exactly what we’re taught in yoga! The past has passed, the future is unpredictable. Why worry and bog ourselves down with thoughts of those and lose sight of that which is really important: right now. Tomorrow can wait. Yesterday is over. Today, right now, in this exact moment in time is where all your energies should be.