A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the…

…yoga studio!

(I hope all of you musical theatre nerds got that one!)

So I had an interesting little experience last night…I was preparing to walk up to my neighborhood studio for a 6pm class last evening and trust me, preparing to leave the house  in Utah during the winter is no small task. I had gotten my layers of clothing on. Tank top and yoga pants – check. Fleece shirt, wool socks- check. Big, red, puffy ski coat – check. Hat, scarf, gloves, keys, debit card – check. Boots – check.

I was all set.

I locked the door and proceeded down the steps, then stopped suddenly and without warning. “Strange”, I thought to myself. “Why did my body just stop itself like that mid-way down the steps?” A moment later I found myself thinking, something feels weird. I normally have something in my arms. My arms don’t normally hang down my side like this. Then of course I realized, DUH! I left my yoga mat inside.

I rolled my eyes at myself, walked back up the stairs, unlocked the door and retrieved my yoga mat from its place in the corner of the living room. As I walked the 10 minutes or so to class, I began to think about what had just transpired and about the connection between mind and body. How auspicious considering I was walking to a yoga class! In this case, my body had performed like an old pro. My mind was probably fluttering ten different places, but my body had remembered something. My muscles had stored the memory of what it feels like to walk to a yoga class, even down to what position my arms were normally in.

So this got me thinking about several conversations Jason and I have been having recently about acting in general and actor training specifically.

As an actor, with a background in dance, I’ve always been drawn to acting philosophies and training that emphasizes the connection between acting and the importance of the body, but so much of our acting tradition in the West is based heavily on psychological acting. To be sure, the work that Stanislavski pioneered in his time was revolutionary. Throughout the years, his teachings and philosophies have morphed with Wester psychology and so much of what’s understood and taught in our country is about trying to get to the psychological and emotional truth of a character or moment, rather than the physical truth of character and moment.

What my forgetting my yoga mat reminded me of is that the mind is inherently undependable and inconsistent. It is important to be able to let the body lead the mind sometimes. I can’t tell you how many times actors, I’m including myself here, go into class, rehearsal , or even a performance saying I don’t feel like doing this, or I just can’t do this today. Sure, acting can be hard work, I mean it’s not Emergency Room medicine, or running a country, but it can be hard work. After all, we’re called upon to be creative not just with our intellect, imagination and bodies, but with our hearts and souls. The act of performing is so intricately tied to the act of giving fully and completely of oneself. So yes, it can be exhausting.

But what I find is that when I hear myself saying, I don’t feel like rehearsing, or performing, it’s really my mind being lazy, undependable and unpredictable. I have found in these situations that if I focus on my physical warm-ups, most of which are ingrained in my muscle memory, my mind will take the back seat and my body will do the work. I will get to a place where I’m fully ready to perform, alert and engaged.

So as I went for a run this afternoon I couldn’t help but connect this all to the larger picture of life. The mind, my mind, is constantly in a state of uncertainty. Racing from thought to thought. Worried about the future, which is not reality. Thinking back on the past, which is no longer reality….no wonder I have felt ill at ease and yes, just plain ill.

I’ve fallen off of my yoga practice since the move to SLC. Why? Well, it’s hard. It’s hard to sit and move alone with your thoughts for an hour and a half every day.With other forms of activity, like running, you can let your mind race from thought to thought, but not with yoga. Eventually you realize that you have to be present for even the smallest of movements of body and mind – and that can be hard!

I once had a yoga teacher at a long ago closed studio in Charleston ask in class, “Why do you keep coming back to the mat?” I think I’ve finally answered that question for myself. Not only is it a space in which to move the body, but it represents a marker for me in my life. Something that, like the body, will always be there at the right time and with the right answer if you just show up and do it.

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