I was a stranger in a new land

A few months back, I found my way back to yoga classes.  Years ago, I had a steady yoga practice that fell by the wayside when I suffered a series of injuries and illnesses in a short period of time.  These kept me from moving and practicing even the most basic of activities, let alone yoga.

After a much-needed surgery, I stumbled upon a gentle yoga class, taught by a gifted teacher, who had experienced many injuries herself and was in tune to the students and their specific needs.  

I felt like a gift had been given back to me as I was allowed to once again move my body and invite it to deeper stretching and strength. 

But, shortly after finding the class, the teacher decided to move in a new direction, working with students suffering from Anorexia and teaching them how to get back into their bodies once again.  Although I was excited for the teacher, and her new meaningful work, I couldn’t help feeling frustrated and disappointed especially as the new replacement teacher lacked the understanding needed to work with injuries.  Once again I found myself stiffening up, not attending classes, and letting the practice go.  Life got busy and other things popped up that seemed more important and accessible.  My body suffered, but I didn’t have the time, or the energy, needed to find a studio where I could continue the healing process. 

Fast forward about a year and a half, and I now find myself living in a new state and a new home in the middle of the vast Sonoran Desert of Southern California.  The move, which has been wonderful, has also been difficult, and I have found myself straddling two different worlds.

A world in which I have open space and possibility for new things, and a world where l feel disoriented and completely set adrift in a new land. 

It was in this new disorienting space that I decided to search for a potential yoga class that could honor my limitations while also welcoming me, and helping me to feel more grounded in my new community.  After much time wandering through Google, I landed on a therapeutic yoga studio and bravely signed up for my first class.  I had no idea if it would work but, the description on the internet seemed to be written specifically for me.  The class offered a chance to regain balance and strengthen injured limbs.  I was cautiously optimistic. 

Side note – although I try to be a gregarious and outgoing person, I can be quite shy and timid in new situations, especially the ones where I feel tender and personal, such as moving a body that doesn’t always want to do what I need it to do, in a room full of yogis that bend in every way imaginable. 

I felt sick to my stomach, and my heart was fluttering, as I walked into the studio to sign the necessary paperwork and pay for the class.  But then, things changed and the words,

“I was a stranger in a new land and you welcomed me"

became radiantly clear.  

The owner of the studio (who happened to also be the teacher) was there waiting for me, and we discussed all the many things that my body had endured, and what didn’t really move anymore and what caused me pain.  I was embarrassed to find myself crying as I described my limitations and frustrations, surprised that I could be so open with someone that I had just met.   

After our talk, she sent me into class where she had lovingly set up stations for each person that had signed up for the class.  I just had to spread my mat out and settle in.  No scurrying around, peeking at other people to see what props they had grabbed, no trying to make sure I hadn’t taken anyone’s regular spot, no stress.  I thought okay, this is going pretty well, but I was still scared and cautious, eager to not embarrass myself in front of the other students.  I picked a nice secluded spot in the corner and waited. 

Fast forward to the end of class – class had gone alright.  I had moved, struggled through some poses, the teacher had helped as needed and I was doing okay, thinking I might be able to come back and try this again (which was good news).  Then, we were all instructed to set up for savasana, corpse pose, which is the resting pose that all yoga classes have at the end. 

All of the sudden, the students around me were grabbing blanket- and bolsters, and blocks, and setting up these elaborate spaces on their mats.  I started to panic, not sure what to do.  And then, much to my surprise, the students stepped in to help me, they put my mat together so my knees could be up and rested on a bolster, they rolled a blanket together so my ankles could rest and not be strained, they put blankets under my arms and, as one final gift, the teacher came around and tucked my head into a blanket to support my neck (I would later find out that she “tucks” everyone in as her gift back to them for their practice that day).  I was overwhelmed.   In these small acts of kindness, I was made to feel welcomed and the ancient Hebrew scripture, 

“I was a stranger and you welcomed me”

was lived out in a modern-day studio, in the middle of the desert, on a regular Thursday evening. 

As I rested on my mat during savasana, I thought about this simple requirement to “welcome” and make at home those who feel like strangers and all that it entails.  I thought about the many refugees seeking shelter in our world.  I thought of the lonely and the friendless.  I thought of all those affected by natural disasters, and how their own homes had become strangers to them, the land altered and rearranged.  And, I thought of all those that I encounter each day, and how just being in a strange new place can be so disorienting and hard.

Through this, I was reminded (or maybe invited) to considered all the ways that I could be extending that same level of welcome, and care, to others on a regular basis. 

This led me to think of the people around me that practice this hospitality each day; my new backdoor neighbor who seems so quiet and reserved but who visits everyone on the street and makes them feel welcomed.  The stranger in the shop that I visited shortly after our move who gave me her card and cell phone number so that I could text if I need help finding doctors, mechanics or such.  People who had given so generously to those in need, the ones that show up each day and care in some simple little way. 

And I realized that I wanted to be more like those people. 

So here is the invitation, let’s all try to be more like that, more ready to step in and offer assistance, more available to offer a kind word or a smile.  To give a little more even if it seems like too much.  Let’s celebrate the people who live lives of welcome and hospitality, and spend less time delving into the lives of those who cause suffering and pain. 

Let's be people committed to offering radical acceptance and love. 

I want to be one of those people.  Don't you?