Last week I attended my first yoga class at my new gym. No one said a word to me. Since it was held at 8:15 on a Saturday morning, I really didn't blame them.
I did get a response when I asked one woman a question. But otherwise, not a whole lot of group-ness was going on in this crowded room.
Today, I attended my second class. The fill-in instructor, who filled in last week as well and somehow got the word this week that we weren't advanced yoga students and so therefore the 10 minutes in one pose (ok, so I exagerate) wasn't necessary, asked if anyone was new to yoga. The petite woman beside me meekly held up her hand.
I interrupt this blog for a brief explanation: I am an extrovert. But not always and certainly not early in the morning. I also don't "meet and greet" even when they tell me to at church. It's not my thing.
At the end of class, I knew what I had to do. An overwhelming sense of rightness in the act made me ask the petite woman what she'd thought of the class, if she was new to the gym, and a couple of other questions. I learned she was new to the city and the gym. That she was from Philadelphia, married, and that her husband worked in research at MD Anderson. They moved here this week and chose their neighborhood because of the facility we were standing in, the library next door and several other factors, I'm sure.
The conversation took less than 5 minutes.
But on her first day in yoga class, someone talked to her. And I left smiling.
Yoga . . . mind, body, spirit connections.