Style: Yin
Teacher: Mark Laham (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice

No. Really. I can't do yoga at home. Over the last two weeks, there have been a few moments where I've considered just staying in the comfort of my house, avoiding the intimidating task of dragging my ass out into the night and into the last available class. Seeing as my home practice is my worst enemy, I've decided that I can't do it in a last-ditch effort to fit one in before the dawn of the next day. When I practice at home I have to consciously make that decision. I have to want it. If my intention is to practice at home, only then can I unroll my mat at home.

Waking up on a pristine Saturday morning, I decide that today is the day. Maneuvering my way through an afternoon full of tasks around the house, I finally carve myself a niche of daylight and unfold my mat. It's only then I realize I am far from alone. The world around me is alive with opportunity. Noise creeps in through the floorboards, the door frames, the air vents, devouring any and all sense of privacy. Footsteps stomp across my attention span, voices interrupt all concentration. The glow of my laptop provides the only light-source in the room, and I find the digital instructor to be a completely inorganic guru. The teacher himself isn't the problem: it's the electronic filter between us. Or maybe it's just me creating my own excuse for a distraction. I find myself engaged in a ferocious internal struggle the likes of which I've never seen.

Earlier in the day I painted my second floor. Applying a careful brushstroke across the walls, my mind quieted down and my focus found a common ground. My breathing fell into place and before I knew it I was tethered to the moment, locked in time and space. Anything is yoga. Yoga is a state of mind. Yoga is only a word. Behind the word is an introduction to self, a reintroduction to the current moment. You are given the opportunity to meet yourself in a real, tangible, one-on-one interaction. Standing back, looking at my craftsmanship of colour on the walls, I am hit with a new insight. All afternoon I've focused my intention and in effect I've lived in the here and now, channeling my creative forces. As soon as I flipped open my laptop preparing to manufacture an experience and listen to a recording, I lost all grip on the moment. I'm still not quite sure what or why that it is, but something is holding me back from an intimate home yoga trip. What I understand completely is the magnitude of it's importance. I need to cultivate my own space, my own personal portal to the inner dimensions. The question is, how?