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If I knew I was going to be 20 minutes late for a one-hour yoga class, I would slam open the studio door, enter the room, stare confusedly at the yogi in the middle of yoga class, or whisper loudly to my fellow yogis. I wouldn’t have. Instructor: “Is this just the beginning or the end?”
It was neither.
Earlier that night, I interrupted my last Zoom call. I had already checked the gym’s website to see that the yoga class started (or so I thought) 20 minutes after his meeting. It was a tight timeline, but we managed to get it done.
Since I work from home, I had everything prepped and ready, including setting up props before the play started. I packed my water bottle, car keys, and wallet in a tote bag and left it next to the front door for easy access when I was out and about. During my lunch break, I wore a T-shirt and stretchy joggers so I wouldn’t have to waste time changing clothes later.
I had been to that gym before, but I turned to Google Maps to find my way there, just to enter my departure time to assess the potential for crowds in the evening. I had marked that time on my calendar for “yoga.” You could say I was actively preparing.
I spent most of my time behind the wheel, lightly testing the speed limit, and mentally ticking off the seconds until a long red light turned green. We were scheduled to arrive exactly on time.
Once there, I raced past the weight lifters and medicine ball throwers to the studio in the back. The lights in the room where the class was scheduled to be held were dimmed, which was unusual. As I approached the glass door, I saw about 10 yogis in warrior pose. Hmm.It’s certainly an unusual position for an instructor. start class, but I’m not a yoga teacher.
I struggled to make sense of the scene before me. Was it the class in front of me that I ran over? Should I wait for Savasana signs before entering the room?
Lately, when I have more to think than to act, as in this moment, I’ve been relying on a mantra: “Start before you’re ready, even if it’s uncomfortable.” Which is a good thing, because what happened next was certainly unpleasant. I threw open the door and entered the dark room.
I froze in place, still wearing my fluffy, calf-length winter coat, while the teacher motioned for the students to do a low lunge. Really The second half suddenly came into focus. That’s when I asked if I was barging into the correct class.
However, while the yogis were following her instructions, I received no clear instructions on whether to stay or leave. My inner critic jumped to conclusions. “You insulted your teacher by being sneaky late for class! She’s not going to answer you!”
I took quick, silent steps to the other side of the room. There, the only place you couldn’t see was the prop closet. I stood in the dark space for what felt like several minutes, peering into the yoga room, waiting for someone to give me an autograph. A sign that I am a welcome friend or a hostile intruder.
I pretended to study the bolster and came up with the answer. I peeked into the studio and the instructor gave me an upside down thumbs up in Downward Dog. My signal. I untied my scarf, took off my jacket, and placed my keys on the floor with a billion noisy keychains on them.
Still panicking and hoping the late line would end as soon as possible, I grabbed a mat and started walking out of the prop closet. I remembered that I should have brought a water bottle, and my inner critic screamed, “No! Go find a place soon!
The fact that I know I’m going to get thirsty during practice wins out. I reached into my tote bag, pulled out a bottle, and entered the studio.
I scanned the room for an empty space. One in the back. I ran over there and spread out the mat. Of course, it didn’t fully unfold, but I didn’t have time to fold the curled end of the mat in the opposite direction to flatten it.
The student next to me quit Upward Dog to reposition his mat. “I’ll scoop it up!” she said. I whispered back, “Thank you.” But you’re totally fine. ” Subtext: “I’m glad you’re being so nice to me, but please don’t draw more attention to me than I already give myself.” My thoughts are now a torrent, all the same Emphasized emotions. “Oh my god.” I’m so embarrassed.
Everyone moved into plank pose. Given the fact that I hadn’t warmed up and that it was impossible for me to plunge into a plank without my body’s stiff muscles screaming for rest, the critic roared again. Warming up is a luxury! Just blend in! ” I just gave in and did a plank.
Of course, warming up is not a luxury, but a necessity. One thing I didn’t do. Even though my lower back was stiff from sitting all day at work, squeaking in lunges, and aching from keyboard fatigue in downward dog, I kept going. My practice that night seemed to have a theme of self-punishment.
Is it really such a big deal to be late for yoga?
The fallout from my lack of punctuality led me to do a little digging (aka Googling) about how others in the yoga community view lateness.
I was still embarrassed after a few days, but I guess I needed someone else to tell me how embarrassed I was. more? few? As reparation for my perceived sin, I was more or less willing to do anything to defeat myself. Of course, it depends on the information on the internet.
I find that this subject evokes intense emotions not only in me but also in other yogis.
I read a blog post by a yoga teacher in which he admitted that he could “lose friends” because of his strong opinions about being late. In other words, he hates being late and asks you not to come to class if you are going to be late.
I’ve scrolled through threads on Quora and Reddit, ranging from “It’s okay to be late! We’re all human…” to “Being late is the most disrespectful thing you can do to yourself and others.”
And then there are the yoga studio websites, most of which have very clear policies regarding tardiness, usually saying things like “please don’t be late,” “it’s okay to be 5 minutes late,” or “when class starts.” Variations include “I’ll lock the door now.” ” Still, no one says, “Come anytime!” Please be awkward! Blame yourself!
When I spoke one-on-one with several yoga experts, I received some very sound and nuanced opinions.
Alicia Perez, a yoga instructor at Yoga Solace in New Jersey, disagrees that being late is not such a black-and-white problem. she says: She says, “Life is complicated and sometimes doesn’t follow a strict schedule. My door is always open.” I am convinced that those who are late need to attend class even more than those who arrive on time.” doing.”
Pirin Anis, head teacher at Kripalu Yoga and Health Center, agrees. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to the instructors or the sangha. I think we’re all here to meet each other where we are and welcome all parts of ourselves. ”
What being late taught me about myself
Even after getting professional proof that being late is nothing to be ashamed of, I couldn’t help but think of myself and my experience as an exception. The main reason for that is because of how hard I tried to be on time. I’m never late for class! I checked the schedule! I broke the speed limit! I walked fast!
Yet, that night, during class, I publicly berated myself in uncomfortable yoga poses to cover up my embarrassment.
The rest of the group transitioned into shoulder stands, but I got into hero pose for the beat. The inner critic, as powerful as ever, claims that I made the most humiliating failure of any yoga class ever, and everyone tells me how I arrived late and took my sweet time getting settled. While I was still thinking about it (I was sure I played the whole “hiding in the prop closet” thing very cool), a breakthrough in perspective appeared: to see this whole thing as an opportunity. is completed.
As yogis, we are often asked to show up on the mat, even imperfectly, and let go of everything that came before. Can I try that instead?
It became clear how being late created a domino effect that led to deeper and deeper doubts about my practice and myself. How do I deal with myself when I feel embarrassed? Can I stay put if I miss the mark? Can I forgive myself?
Viewed through the lens of imperfection, I interpreted everything that happened after I was late as a sign that I wasn’t welcome. The delay in her instructor giving me a thumbs up meant I had insulted her. The fact that I came mid-stream meant I shouldn’t have taken any more time to grab a bottle of water. I couldn’t help but cry out at the kindness shown to me by my fellow yogis.
But when viewed through the lens of compassion, the story is very different. The yoga teacher gave me space to go into the room as I wanted. She made time to pack a water bottle so she could stay hydrated during practice. And my fellow yogis accommodated me as best they could. All of this didn’t happen despite me being late, but because of my tardiness.
My biggest challenge and talent is realizing that even if I don’t arrive right, on time, or feel awkward, I can keep moving forward despite the chaos. think. Imperfection will always be present in some form, but it doesn’t have to dictate how I view everything else. The fact is that I showed up.
Did I disturb other students’ practice by being late? Maybe so. And I don’t feel good about it. But at the end of the day, there was no one to stop them from doing it because of me. Even my tardiness and the groans of gym patrons using the bicep curl machine didn’t deter anyone from practicing. Why did this happen to me?
At the end of class, I approached the instructor. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought the class was at 6:30.”
I felt a little less guilty when several students chimed in to let me know that their schedules had changed at the last minute. (I was tempted to ask when exactly the change was made, but I checked three times that day so I decided against it.)
Lately, I’ve been thinking that how well you are prepared has little to do with how well your life goes. The better lessons may belong to those who willingly jump into a room or situation and keep going despite being very shy. Luckily, yoga welcomes all of that.
What to do when you are late for class
For those of you who, like me, are nervous about being in the position of intruding on a yoga class in progress, Perez has this advice: “Our practice is much deeper than the hands of a clock. Acceptance of oneself is a tenet of yoga, and life is not perfect.”
Of course, depending on which studio you go to and which instructor is teaching, you may find yourself outside a locked door. Still, I think the important thing is that I tried. And when doors are open to us, in yoga or in life, do we allow ourselves to open them? Can we support ourselves no matter what we find on the other side?
For those who are afraid to walk through the door a minute (or 20 minutes) late, Anis added: have the practice of ~ and actually invite SvadhyayaIn that moment of self-study and self-exploration…it may be an opportunity for them to give themselves grace and compassion. ”
Anis emphasizes the importance of warming up first, perhaps starting with a sun salutation before attending class.
Even if you’re late or, like me, cram your body into painful positions due to social anxiety, it’s okay. Your intentions and your practices are not the same. I think that by going against your intentions, like setting yourself up to arrive on time, you really get the practice you need.
