Tonight I became all choked up while singing “Amazing Grace”, as our community choir was using it for our warm-up.
What was that about? I don’t follow any faith so it wasn’t a religious experience, but the group singing was palpably moving. It just caught me in the throat and that was it.
Many years ago at Sydney’s Circular Quay, I was waiting for a ferry when I found myself drawn to a young man positioned right in the middle of the pedestrian traffic singing show tunes, of all things. Maybe he was busking but I don’t think he was. He was neatly dressed in casual attire, nice-looking, early twenties, and his voice was wonderful.
He caught me unawares; I don’t even care for show tunes that much. There was something so ingenuous and transparent about his presentation that I found myself crying. I sort of wanted to protect him. He was so out there with everything he had.
My first experience of yoga was with a 60-something woman teacher in the States. Does anyone ever forget their first teacher? I was 27. After the class, I felt like I’d been doing the most natural thing in the world, like I belonged to yoga.
I still have this homecoming experience doing yoga. Not always. Occasionally it’s even a chore. I remind myself I’m a yogini by the amazing grace of my friend who introduced me to yoga, by the goodwill of that first teacher and by the blessings of the universe.