It’s been about a month since our last Yoga Shabbat, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Especially today, on the eve of Tu B’Shevat. I remember that moment in the service when we gathered in a circle, at Nancy’s instruction, and formed a stand of trees.
Each of us, some more tentatively than others, assumed the Tree Pose. I was particularly self-conscious about how unsteady I felt on one foot.
“Remember,” Nancy said in her gentle-firm tone, “you can put your foot on your thigh above your knee, or on your calf below your knee, but do not put your foot directly against your knee.” Then she coached us to press our palms against the palms of the people on either side and hold the pose.
“Breathe.” There was nervous laughter, laughter of recognition that no one was alone in thinking they might fall. Breathing slowly, I managed to still my shaking trunk.
As an individual in Tree Pose, I need only focus on maintaining my own balance.
As an individual in Team Tree Pose, I must also contribute to the group’s stability.
Like trees in a forest that support one another through interconnected roots, Team Tree Pose reflects our interconnectedness, demonstrates how collective effort creates stability and resilience.
Knowing we would soon return to our mats for the conclusion of our service, I was moved to offer a prayer for peace. “I feel like this is a perfect time to sing Oseh Shalom.”
Nancy agreed, and encouraged me to lead us.
As each tree in the forest added their voice in song, I felt a sense of renewed physical and emotional energy rising up from my foot on the floor. I checked in with myself: was it a tingling in my toes, a symptom of the pressure in my spine? No, I was calm, steady.
Perhaps singing about God sending heavenly peace to all who dwell on earth freed me to imagine we are a community of pitch pine, our roots planted in the soft, sandy earth, our branches touching, forming an extended canopy midway from here to heaven.
One goal of Team Tree Pose is to create an unbroken circle of mutual support. Holding palms together, stabilizing one another to create stillness, is our shared purpose. We belong to one another, belong to a community committed to fostering peace, v’imru, and we say, Amen.
* * * * * * *
It seems disingenuous to write these words without admitting “Yoga isn’t my thing.” And yet, on that morning, standing in the forest sanctuary of Congregation Beth Tikvah, I felt lighter, unburdened.
I hadn’t given a single thought to my own accumulated grief. I trusted the group to hold space for our collective grief, to hold us steady, strong enough to articulate our yet unarticulated needs.
Saying “Yoga isn’t my thing” now seems disingenuous, as I understand the true purpose of these services: Yoga and Renewal, Inclusion Shabbat and Meyer Kotkin Donuts & Daven all serve as public testimony that it’s good to try new things, to find strength in each other and to lead each other along paths of peace.
Each time we gather to pray, learn, eat, we reclaim our place in the forest. Like a stand of trees, interconnected, deeply rooted, resilient.