by Stephanie F. Earls
New England has had an interesting summer: its own version of tornado alley in June, sympathy shakes from an earthquake centered in Virginia last week and as I write, remnants of Hurricane Irene soaking us.
In each case, from our separate spaces, we have reached out to hear from each other. Are you safe? Is it crazy there? What did you feel? Seeing through the hype of news reports and having the internet at our fingertips (assuming electricity), we've turned to our most trusted sources: facebook, twitter, email, text message, to find out how things are going around the country and the world. We have shared mobile uploads showing each other what we see or what we are doing. And yet with this ability to share there is an element of our experience that can't be expressed with a mobile upload. It is the most human part of us, the physical, the emotional, the sensual. And though some will advocate otherwise, I believe this human, actual experience and everything it encompasses, is the gateway to the spirit.
Yesterday after taxi-ing my parents to Logan I made an impromptu stop at Fenway and caught most of the first game of a double header. It was great fun; lights and food and smiles and cracks of the bat. There were group cheers and group moans, sweat and sun then raindrops and wetness. The day was a feast for the senses culminating in a torrential downpour which I thought ended the game after the seventh (though the stellar grounds crew kept it going).
At that point floods of people left the park and I joined them, braving the walk back to my car, a mile away. It was an event that no mobile upload could capture. The sheer weight and pace of the rain was too much for my cell phone to "weather" but what's more, the experience was so rich in physical experience that no one, two or even three dimensional account would suffice. Whether delightful or devastating being human includes feelings and ripple effects which do not live online.
For me yesterday it was a fun side of real life, caught in heavy, drenching, warm rain. With each step the flooded streets and sidewalks threatened to sweep me and my flip flops off my feet so I took them off and made my way barefoot through the city. As the rain became harder and faster I realized any amount of closing my body to preserve some dryness was futile. So I relaxed and opened. There was no separating myself from everything around me. I was immersed. I was connected from the soles of my feet to the top of my head and everything in between. My mind was completely engaged in the moment. Then all I could do was laugh: hundreds of Fenway fans all in the same boat (or wishing we had one) scurrying for cover or cars as the rain became more penetrating. It was life happening. It was running and walking and finally giving up all hope of having anything dry, it became surrender. And with surrender: delight, excitement, exhileration.
This is yoga. It's not about putting your leg behind your head, breathing in instead of out or wearing the right clothes. It does not require a mat or a class or trendy food. It is just that you be where you are, feel what you feel and notice. It is bringing together your mind and your body so that your spirit is free through the mind and body. Yesterday it was, for me, this rain-soaked walk with Red Sox Nation and 20 minutes of truth. When you're running in the rain there's no hiding. You wear your feelings on your sleeve, and since your clothes become a second layer of skin you can imagine how raw it all is. Your mind becomes focussed on one step at a time toward reaching your destination. And even though we were each heading on our own paths, we were all together too. Just like life. So here, one beautiful blossom of the yoga bud of awareness: sharing experience and getting to relate to the person next to you.
These are the things we love most about a day at the game or a day in a storm: a chance to share with strangers and loved ones and find common ground, a chance to connect on our paths. Happy or sad, scary or exciting these are our chances to look and laugh, to smile or cry, to high five or throw our hands up. These are our chances to feel. These are our chances to engage our senses with experience to awaken our spirits instead of dull them down. These are our chances to be human, to be who we are and to lean on each other, together. Beyond the mobile upload.
