Yoga in a Thunderstorm

Here in New England, at this time of year, thunderstorms are an almost everyday occurrence. Weather forecasters can phone in their daily reports: Hot and humid with the chance of afternoon or evening thunderstorms. Cooler at the shore.

Sometimes, thunderstorms roll through the evening and past midnight. Occasionally, they will wake you up in the morning, replacing the sun as a natural alarm clock. On a day when thunderstorms do wake you up at dawn, the sky seems un-naturally dark. Not as dark as the night-time, but an ominous sort of dark that feels safe at the same time. The rain washes the humidity out of the air, but you can still feel the mugginess. If you open the window, the breeze is cool but damp. It feels good.

Dawn happens to be the best time of day to practice yoga, for me. I have always imagined that early practitioners viewed yoga as a way to begin. To awaken the body and clear the mind early to prepare for a productive day. Or simply a day of movement and meditation. 

From a present day perspective, morning seems to be the best time to practice, because your mind has not had time to fill up with the worries of your life. Your muscles can use a good stretch. Going through the cycle of a full practice gives you an advantage when facing the challenges ahead. I feel that way about most morning exercise. It’s difficult to get started, but when you are done, you realize you have accomplished something significant before most people are getting out of bed. This can only be good.

Yoga is mostly a quiet practice with few if any tools or props. Your mind and your body create the challenge and the resistance. The use of breathing to overcome the physical challenge is meant to eliminate the resistance brought to the mat by the mind. The physical practice of yoga is the first step toward preparing your mind for the practice of meditation.

Yoga is an organic pursuit. Your body. Your mind. You as part of nature, moving through a series of poses that begin to flow in synch with your breath. A series of poses that can be regimented or intuitive.

In this quiet place, this private practice, the rumble of a morning thunderstorm adds a different dimension. The experience is enhanced through a deeper connection with nature.

The sound of rain provides background rhythm to the sound of your breath. Flashes of lightning brighten the room. The thunder vibrates from the ground up through your core and disperses from the space near your heart and through your arms and fingertips.

There is a counting aspect to yoga based on breath in and breath out. It is a two-count that is slightly different for everyone. Thunderstorms have their own counts depending on how distant they are centered, but they often match the movement of a yoga practice based on a four-count or six-count. 

Breathe in, there is a crackle of lightning. Breathe out, the pounding of thunder. Breathe in and your body contracts in a pose, breathe out; your legs and arms extend - becoming a conduit for the energy of the storm.

The nature of yoga and the nature of a thunderstorm are simple and complex at the same time. Many yoga sessions end with a pose known as savasana, or final relaxation. It is a resting pose, usually done lying on your back with legs and arms outstretched and eyes closed. Your breathing is natural in this pose, involuntary as it is for most of your day. You don’t feel drowsy as your body recovers from practice, but it is not unusual for people to fall asleep, and this tendency remains present in a thunderstorm.

The sound of the thunder is no longer a threatening crash. It is a reassuring rumble. A lullaby. The rain cools the air as it settles over you like a blanket. Instead of facing the day, maybe it would be better to celebrate this connection by crawling back into bed.