In yoga I find the use of props an essential part of teaching and taking classes. In class, I may refer to them as toys—I am the teacher who hauls in lacrosse, golf, tennis and even beach balls. I may joke of them being toys, but they are truly tools. These tools help deepen a practice and allow proper alignment to be achieved. There have been a few students who come in to a class and announce to me that they do not need props. They have been practicing long enough, they say, to not need any assistance from props. I usually smile and remind myself that the practice is theirs, not mine. But I also know that I will practice yoga the rest of my life and always use props. Even when I do not need them, it is nice to know that their assistance has nothing to do with my years of practice. It has to do with my desire to accept support.
A thought about props occurred the other morning in a crowded yoga class I attended. The morning was rainy and the students flowed into class until there was little more than a slim slit between each mat. The well prepared teacher readily switched up lesson plans knowing the best thing to do in a crowded room of yogis is to keep them on the confines of their mat. For the most part, we were.
As we prepared for a twist while laying on our backs with our knees bent, she instructed to extend our arms straight out to the sides as both knees went in one direction. The twist unwinds the spine, massages the organs, and can release toxins. Our crowded room version brought many knees to hover above and then lightly rest on a neighbor’s hip. Many of our out stretched arms overlapped. Seemed to me no one gasped or re-adjusted. There was a little laughter and a few apologies were uttered. “We are one another’s props today. Nice to have isn’t it?” our teacher asked.
As I lay in the twist following her instructions on which muscles to focus on and which to release from undue gripping, her words wrapped around me. She may have intended to diffuse the awkward intersection of strangers’ arms and legs but what she did was infuse the reality that yes, we do all need a little propping from time to time.
Accepting help can be far more tenuous than giving help. Who among us has declined an outstretched hand (figuratively or literally) believing that inconveniencing someone else is far worse than enduring our own inconveniences? Yet I believe there is a current that runs through us all that connects us, and when we refute the outstretched hand or when we don’t make room for the person on the mat next to us, we are disrupting the flow of energy. When that energy is extended with empathy and care, it is healing. When we accept the assistance offered or when we stretch out to make the offer, magic ensues. It is the magic of compassion. It is the knowing that as we navigate troubles and hard times, we do not have to stand alone. It is the magic of knowing we are capable of reaching out to those who need our support. In this way, each of us are the tools. We are critical human props.