new york– state of mine

“That Yoga class was SO great”…wait- hold on…was it really? I can’t help but wonder whether this enthusiastic sentiment was felt as a result of the actual yoga class, or our male model-like instructor. What makes a yoga class exceptional versus subpar? Is it the appeal of the instructor, the relaxation factor, or innovative variations of yoga poses?

My NYC yoga experience has been unpredictable. At the studio I attend, the instructors are always different. With multiple classes per day, I don’t have to set my schedule around yoga class but can put on my leggings and head over whenever it suits me. I’ve never had my mat next to the same person two classes in a row. In fact, due to the popularity of yoga and this particular studio, I’ve even had a few people throw their limbs onto my mat!

That said, I’ve come to accept these factors- not only in yoga, but in life- as part of New York. The never-ending options and the hoards of people in this city are no longer a surprise to me. And though these uncertainties-’who will be attending class?’, ‘who will set their mat next to mine?’, ‘which class will I attend?’, etc- exist, it is perhaps ‘who will be my instructor?’ that most impacts the quality of my class.

Is the yoga practice entirely dependent on your instructor? Now, while I am a fan of instructors correcting my technique during my practice, there’s something particularly favorable when this person looks like he’s the newest Calvin Klein model. On the other hand, I have to stop myself mid-thought with the reminder that yoga is supposed to be all about being present. To be aware of your own body and breathing and not taking notice of those around you becomes especially difficult when, even with closed eyes, the sexual tension in the studio feels very much like the elephant in the room syndrome.

Instructors create the flow and set the tone of the class- for better or for worse. Some have been very organic, nurturing yet challenging, while others have been characters, to say the least. One guy seemed to be prepping for a Shakespearian acting course. Every sun salutation command felt contrived and he spoke with way too much gusto behind every word. Or, there’s the flawlessly beautiful instructor who ‘mmms’ and ‘uh huhs’ the class through the poses and creates quite a different undertone, which can be quite distracting. Especially when he integrates words like “supple” (seriously? ) into explanation of the positions.

Maybe we all achieve peace of mind in different ways. In all honesty, I practice yoga with the intention of calming my nerves and feeling stress-free post class. But, who is to say an evening yoga class can’t be something to gossip about the next morning at work?