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For years, I might enter my favorite yoga studio on the second floor of a brick townhouse on Manhattan’s Lower East Side and unfurl my mat in the identical exact place within the back row, far left corner. I had a spot. I didn’t query it. I just took to it, like a moth to light.

It wasn’t at all times convenient. I liked to linger after Savasana and will hear others walking around me to collect their possessions. Once someone’s shoe fell on my head.

Every day, as students began to maneuver and breathe next to and in front of me, I took part in Sun Salutations and transitions through balancing postures before finally landing in Savasana from this specific angle. “My spot” offered a form of anchor in my day, a pivot point inside my consciousness and inside the collective.

A handful of times once I arrived on the studio and located another person had taken “my spot,” I noted something stir within me, as if the world were out of order. I laughed at my rigidity and told myself I used to be presupposed to be practicing non-attachment as I unrolled my mat elsewhere. Still, the subsequent day I returned to my usual spot.

Within the spirit of bringing mindfulness to all that I do, I’ve begun to wonder, why was I interested in this particular eleven-square-foot patch of hardwood floor? Why did I at all times place my mat in the identical space, each practice, with such consistency? What number of others gravitated toward the identical mat placement each class? And what might that reveal?

Location, Location, Location

When speaking with other yoga practitioners about where they like to practice, comfort is something that got here up time and time again. Of those I spoke with, 38% preferred the front row. The remaining folks were split down the center: 31% liked the back row and one other 31% opted for the center of the room. A convincing 81% would take a spot by the wall when available versus 19% preferring to be in the midst of class surrounded on all sides by other students.

Only a few people I spoke with mentioned not having a preference in any respect. It seems some yoga studios are responding, giving students the agency to self-select a spot before even entering the constructing.  My current local studio in Brooklyn has assigned mat placement online. If you enroll for sophistication, you furthermore mght select which mat you wish, not unlike how you would possibly select a seat at a concert or when booking a flight.

The Front Line

Just as I’ve gravitated toward different sorts of yoga at different times of my life because of shifting inner needs—Ashtanga once I was in need of routine and rigor, restorative when ease called my name—my mat placement varies with my life’s contents. One yr, I told myself this may be my “front row yr.” I used to be teaching yoga, feeling more stable and robust because of my practice, and desired to coax myself right into a general welcoming of being seen as a student. This, I assumed, can be a recent viewpoint.

At this studio, teachers often took up the front row. The concept was that from the front row, a more experienced practitioner could find the shapes and practice with more inner instruction, without the necessity to go searching the room for clarification. A more experienced practitioner could, from there, lead others.

I appreciated that space, however the energy was different. I felt more “on.” Inevitably I ended up moving back to the rear of the room, which probably says something of my personality (shall I mention the introvert thing?). I’m not alone in my mat placement reflecting my inner needs.

“I’ll compare myself to all those other bodies and their abilities if I’m not within the front,” says Ali Smith, a author. “As a more moderen practitioner, it’s also reassuring to know that I can leave at any time,” she said, explaining that the door at her studio was on the front of the room. “Not that I might,” she quickly added.

Other front rowers responded otherwise. The front row can offer focus, a likelihood to zoom in on the teacher’s voice and body without the distraction of others moving in your visual view. For a lot of, the front holds associations of taking the lead. In case you’re a front row yoga practitioner, this might inform you you aren’t afraid to be seen by those in the center and back of the room. Within the front row, you will discover each leadership and a way of privacy. The front row may mean you’re daring, focused, direct. You might be ready to take care of the situation at hand, and will probably want to give attention to that by putting blinders on to those around you.

Ask yourself: how invested are you in learning from the community around you? Are you able to lead with gentleness and take Child’s Pose when needed?

The Middle Way

The center row can offer comfort for some, a spot where you’re feeling you’re a part of the collective body in school. There, you possibly can each lose and end up in community.

Preferring the middle of the room may reveal that you just find support by being immersed in an experience. You thrive off letting yourself be a part of the entire. From the middle of the room you might close your eyes and experience yourself held by the yoga practice itself but additionally those going through practice with you. In community, you’re now not alone. It’s also a savvy spot to take for those who learn by mirroring others, whether visually or through feeling. I find once I’m in the midst of the room there are a number of examples of poses around me if I feel lost.

“I wish to be in the center,” says Jennifer Guinter, lecturer at USC in Physical Education & Mind Body Health (PEMBH). “As someone with ADHD, I find the “body double” phenomenon of a bunch setting to be extremely helpful. The presence of other people around me and doing the identical thing helps keep me anchored in the current moment. Being in the midst of a bunch of yoga practitioners is infectious, in the easiest way possible.”

(Photo: miodrag ignjatovic | Getty)

Within the Back

After which there’s the back row. Gravitating to the back may mean you’re searching for shelter, a spot to take off the mask you wear on the earth, an area to not be seen but to easily feel.

“My yoga practice is the place where I process grief and trauma,” says Mary Ward Lupinacci, youth yoga teacher and professor at Eastern Washington University. “For that, I prefer the back. The physical asana practice is such a very important emotional release for me and it’s so vulnerable. Being behind the room gives me that room to access vulnerability.”

The back row offers a spot where you possibly can be connected to community, yet remain set apart. From there, you would possibly construct a way of safety, knowing you possibly can simply lift your eyes and see the complete space if needed. If the back row is your selection, you might be searching for the drugs of alone time while still practicing with others. You’re searching for quiet within the midst of all of it. You could be searching for a cocoon.

Looking back, I started to see that my number of the back row wasn’t random. I loved that back row, partially, since it offered a spot somewhat faraway from the remaining of the room but still connected to it.  Sometimes my gaze would lift in Warrior 1 and, seeing rows of arms prolonged, I felt a welling of emotion. I used to be a part of the body of this community I adored, but had my very own unique functioning inside it. Then, we’d move again.

All my years of being within the back were years I used to be searching for safety, a spot to unwind without being directly witnessed. I first entered that studio and my practice with a nasty back, a broken heart, and a busy mind. An introvert in a crowded metropolis, I craved the intimacy of community but additionally wanted a while alone to feel: all medicine I discovered within the back row. The back row was the answer. There I could securely soften into vulnerability.

The consistency of the back row selection grew out of a time of my life when so many things, from jobs to relationships, were in flux. There was a deeper rhythm to this selection. Placing my mat in the identical spot every day was like practicing a set sequence. I could ask myself: what else had modified? It turned out, lots. From that corner, I slowly began to feel safer in yoga and in life. I watched myself grow.

We also construct safety through having a selection. In fact, we only have control over our decisions, not the alternatives of those around us. There have been times the teacher asked us to “flip” our warriors so the back of the mat became the front and—surprise!—I used to be suddenly within the front. A cosmic joke? Then it became a lesson of non-attachment.

“I believe feeling physically secure relies on feeling psychologically secure,” says Dr. Gail Parker, a yoga therapist. “I believe it’s necessary to permit people to search out the spot within the physical space where they feel most comfortable.”

Inquiries to Ask Yourself

What happens once we bring awareness to the space we selected to practice within the room? Your yoga mat placement might be a part of your practice, one other layer of mindfulness.

Leadership
Do you wish to be within the front, perhaps closer to the teacher’s voice and body for instruction, or willing to be the one glanced at by newer practitioners behind the room? How might you foster leadership within the room?

Support
Do you wish to be in the midst of the room, surrounded on all sides by others of their practice? What gives you support within the physical space?

Privacy
Is there something about being within the back row that enables you a slice of privacy while being a part of the group? Where else and the way else might you foster privacy within the room?

Safety
What mat placement gives you a way of daring or safety or each? Would you profit from moving around to different spots? Or do you favor the routine of the identical place so you could higher feel what’s different every day? How will you make where you place your mat a component of your practice, too? What’s your selection telling you and, for those who bring more awareness to it, what gives you the security or challenge you wish in that day’s practice?

Ask yourself, where within the room do you could have access to the energy you require or desire? Wouldn’t it profit you to try one other location and, with it, a recent energy? Might you must stand your usual mat selection on its head?

Increasingly more, I take whatever random space is accessible. Sometimes I check in with my intuition and see what energy I would like from that practice. What’s ultimately most vital is that irrespective of where you place your mat, you’ve gotten onto it. There, you’re centered in your body, the situation that matters most.

About our contributor

Sarah Herrington is a author, poet, and teacher. She is the founding father of OM Schooled kids yoga teacher trainings and Mindful Writing Workshops.