262 A JOURNEY INTO YIN YOGA
his being. Then he paused and came back to his breath, smoothing it out.
He had learned that when you shape your breath, you shape your mind. The
internal storm dramatically dissipated from his body. Neurologically, he shifted
from the limbic brain to the higher brain. He became free in that moment from
the trauma of war and could begin to see clearly the beauty in front of him.
The customer handed the baby over to the checkout clerk, who lit up with
joy. The officer thought to himself, “Why did I get so upset? I’m not even in
a hurry, and even if I were, how are an extra two or three minutes going to
hurt?” The happy baby was handed back to the customer, and she left the store.
All in the span of a few minutes, this officer had experienced everything
from disbelief, to rage, to a moment of awakening, to empathy, and then to
compassion. As his couple of items scanned through, he smiled at the check-
out clerk and said, “That was one beautiful child.”
The woman’s eyes welled up with tears and she said, “That was my son.
His father lost his life in war. Every day my mother brings my son in to see
me once or twice to say hello. Since losing my husband, I’ve had to work two
full-time jobs to pay the bills and haven’t gotten to see my son much. Those
moments when he comes in are the happiest of my day.”
We never know what another person’s story is. We never know what chal-
lenges other people are moving through. It’s easy to jump to conclusions and
to create stories in our head, but often this becomes a barrier to discovering
the reality. Fortunately, this officer had a practice he could rely on. His ability
to restore his calm saved him and the family from further suffering. Your yin
yoga practice reinforces your ability to find this kind of freedom. As you can
see, the benefits of yoga are bigger than becoming physically flexible.
Just the other day, I was between teaching two classes and had a tiny
window of time to eat dinner. I went to a local health food store, grabbed food
to go, and then sat in my car to eat. In the middle of shoveling rice, mung dhal,
and steamed veggies down my throat, I saw a homeless guy lurking around
my car. It was dark and he was yelling gibberish and hitting a wall. Out of
nowhere, he spun around and caught me looking at him. He then jumped in
front of my car, wild eyed and ragged. For a few seconds, we locked eyes.
Suddenly, he blurted out, “What time is it?!” After taking a couple of seconds
to compute his question, I looked at the clock and then carefully responded,
“It’s 6:50.” His head swung erratically to his left and then swung back to face
me, and he venomously yelled, “What? What did you say?” I was somewhat
scared. But my yoga practice came through. Although I experienced some
fear, greater than that was a feeling of strength and courage. I began to feel a
deep compassion for this human being in front of me. I couldn’t help but feel
the tremendous pain and suffering this soul must have endured. I felt a loving
awareness flood through me like a purple dye permeating a vessel of water.
From this newfound place, I kindly reanswered his question, “It’s 6:50.” In a
flash, all the rage in the homeless man had been erased. For a few moments
we both existed together, inseparable, in a mysterious state of wonder. We