Where's Your Head?

After a long afternoon on the yoga mat, I was feeling really limber; all unwound.  I felt good that I'd been able to hold several untried postures and that the rhythm between postures seemed to be smoothing out a bit.  This is a problem when you've got long legs and not-as-long arms.

My sense of satisfaction was soon to be shattered. Marching towards my mat, full yoga walk in swing was my yoga instructor Jenny.  I could tell that she was walking with intention, not towards the CD player or the alter next to my mat, but towards me.

Nothing in yoga happens without intention, or sense of purpose.  Jenny's intention was about to become clear.  "Where's your head?" she said, looking directly into my eyes.  I stammered a bit, saying "Um, right here", pointing lamely to connecting point between neck and skull.  And if it wasn't enough to act with intention, there is also the need for acting with compassion.  No one ever yells in yoga class.  It's just not done.  But I could tell she was frustrated with me.

"No, no" said Jenny the Yogini.  "I mean, where's your head?  You have to think about where your head is when you do these postures."  I thought about it a bit.  "Can you be more specific?", I asked.  "Well, your Downward Facing Dog is too stiff - you're holding your neck, shoulders and head as if you were the Sphinx - but I'm really worried about your head."

Now, the above statement might have brought up visions of a stone cat, OR of a puppy with his back-end in the air.  Apparently, I was able to evoke both at the same time; no mean feat I will tell you.  I threw back my head and laughed, because at that moment, I realized its an important question regardless of your activity.

Jenny looked at me somewhat askance.  "I didn't realize it was a funny question", she said.  I sought to enlighten her regarding my own moment of enlightenment.  "Jenny", I started, "it's a great question.  Whether in Downward Facing Dog, at the computer or in the boardroom, it's a good thing to know where your head is."

At that, she smiled.  'Yeah, I guess it's not such a bad question after all!".  So thanks to the bridging zone between intention and compassion, I can ask myself at any given moment, "Where IS my head?".  Hopefully, the answer still lies somewhere between neck and skull, but also between heart and head, and fully in the moment, whatever my current posture might be.