(== Description == {{information |Description= Beham, (Hans) Sebald (1500-1550): Musica (B.125, P.127), from The Seven Liberal Arts, P., Holl. 123-129. First state of two. |Source=Private collection |Author=Scan by Nick Michael |Dat)

Yoga poses are the lyrics of the body

Music moves me always, is as important in my daily existence as yoga, but the last many weeks in class, the music has all but dominated my thoughts.

These days it might well have the power to rouse me more than the yoga itself. Well, that could be a tiny stretch (no pun intended). It quickens my heart rate, invokes memories, stirs up feelings that have the ability to overwhelm me, mostly, thank goodness, in a positive way. Though, I have to say, I am happy to link music to sad memories as well. Those memories are our truths. Facing and embracing what comes up in a pose…isn’t that what’s supposed to happen in yoga?

An instructor can be mediocre at teaching, play bumpin’ beats or heart pounding lyrics and I will undoubtedly get on better with the him or her than the one who kicks my ass physically but plays top forty or “typical” yoga music. In fact, in the past, I’ve had to break up with instructors who can’t keep me stimulated musically for an entire sixty minutes. I need originality. I need to know a bit about personality through musical choice and connect to an instructor through their ears as well as their passion for the practice. When the sounds that move an instructor move me too, the draw is magnetic.

I remember a class a few years ago in which I was so controlled by the playlist that, afterward, I stumbled out of class in a trance, eventually finding my wits, asking my friend, did you hear that song while we were doing whatever pose…? She responded, “Was there music today? I didn’t notice.” This has never been the case for me: I feel the music almost every second: in my limbs, in my chest, in my heart. A quickening tempo makes my pulse race and find more depth and strength in a pose. Sometimes my drumming fingers or tapping foot seem to have a mind of their own in Setu Bandha Sarvangasana BRIDGE pose, potentially a resting posture, certainly a heart opening one. Even if my tapping motion is small and not visible to the naked eye, I am in tune with the beats in each class that I attend. If it sounds good in my ears, it feels good in my spirit. I get chills when the rhythm rolls through my body even though I practice in a room that is humid and heated so much that I look like I’ve jumped into a swimming pool with my clothes on after it is all over. A great song makes my body shiver; the same way I do when I feel love for someone or from someone.

Play a list with some TV on the Radio or slow it down with Jeff Buckley or Bon Iver, make me burn with Empire of the Sun or fold in any Jack White tune. Spin out a slightly obscure South song or a cut from Blowout Comb or an unreleased track from the Emancipation of Mimi, and I’m your student for life. Robert Smith’s voice intertwined with any yoga pose has the ability to make me pant and weep at the same time. This is a feeling I aspire to in yoga on a daily basis. The music is as therapeutic to me as are the postures. It has the power to lift me up or ground me in my present self. This is why I have a daily practice: to find the joy and the truth that is me. Why not find it in the music too?