Hello! It’s been a while since I’ve introduced myself. I’m Angelina, and this is “Always a Student.” I was a student and teacher at Union Yoga until I moved to a connectivity black hole on the other side of the country. “Always a Student” is a place where Rex and I talk about yoga and yoga-adjacent topics every Wednesday(ish) with the hope of showing you that no matter how long we practice this yoga stuff, we're all students for life.

We're also interested in presenting a yoga that is accessible, inclusive, and supportive to survivors of trauma and addiction. It looks and sounds a little different than many popular portrayals of yoga in the media today. You're probably not going to catch us talking about ten ways to get more bendy on here. We love the physical practice, but the yoga we practice here is how we live our lives. This is what we hope to share.

Usually, Rex and I alternate message-writing responsibilities, but for the next few weeks, he'll be working to get Union Yoga into a new physical space. So exciting! (There's a button at the bottom if you'd like to support that effort.) As a result, you'll probably hear mostly from me for a little while. I’m always happy to take questions or suggestions for what you’d like to explore in this space. More than anything, we want this to be a place for you.

In the words of a young Forrest Gump, "...now we ain't strangers anymore."

I promised we'd talk about the best social network.

Last week, headlines about social media and issues with social responsibility were plastered all over the news. I also happened to be reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass, which offers an indigenous perspective on the relationship between people and the earth. Juxtaposing those views on connection (the one is often superficial and the other as enduring as time) puts me in the perfect place to think about yoga.

Kimmerer states:

If all the world is a commodity, how poor we grow. When all the world is a gift in motion, how wealthy we become.

Rather than hoarding objects and wealth, she speaks of a world where the value of the act of giving gifts greatly surpasses the value of the objects themselves.

Of course, we live in a capitalist society, but we can have a little of that gift economy connection too. My practice led me back to my favorite Ram Dass quote, “We’re all just walking each other home.” The relationship he describes involves supporting one another, but it's not necessarily through passing physical materials. That’s the network I want to talk to you about today.

Being helped: Someone walked me home

Some of you might remember part of this story from an in-person class in “the before times,” but it’ll be new for most of you.

In 2012 I took my first tottering steps in eating disorder recovery. (Note: New readers, we talk about things like being in recovery at Union. If we think something could be triggering, we'll give a warning, but recovery often comes up in passing, and it's not something we're ashamed of.)

I took a long walk to the grocery store so that I could adhere to the meal plan my medical team had agreed upon for me. I loaded a backpack and some shopping bags with food and headed home. Owing to my physical condition at the time, the trek to the store was hard enough empty-handed, but the return trip may as well have been all the way to Mordor.

I had a little less than a quarter of a mile to walk, but the last bit was uphill. This was bad, y’all. I went to the side of the road, put down all my bags, and tried to catch my breath. I already had a decent view of rock bottom, but on this day, I really plumbed the depths. Maybe you folks in recovery can relate to the moment.

I was panting and feeling sorry for myself when a gift from the universe came to me in the form of a young man who spotted my predicament. While I was all winded at the pity party, I failed to see him working on a car parked up the street.

“Ma’am, do you need some help?”

I wanted to say that I didn’t need any help, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

Without hesitation, the guy picked up all the heavy bags and schlepped them up the hill for me. When we arrived at my apartment, I realized I had nothing to give. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that a stranger might help a person just because it was the right thing to do.

I thanked him profusely, shut the door, and wept. Something about this exchange helped me understand that I was going to make it. I was going to get better. This was my introduction to being walked home and accepting help when I need it.

The tables turn: I walked someone else home

Fast forward to April of 2020. Union Yoga’s offerings were all online. Downtown San Diego looked like a dead zone. We were in lockdown.

Thankfully, walking the dog was considered a legitimate reason to be out of doors. Manatee, my sweet pup, and I made our usual loop through East Village and downtown while giving the few other humans and dogs out there a wide berth.

On our way back, I noticed a man with a white-tipped cane and a German Shepherd ahead of us on the sidewalk.

“Is anyone there?” he asked. He sounded worried.

“I am.”

The man explained that he was totally lost. He usually relied on a combination of muscle memory and sound to get him home. Since most of the traffic and human sounds weren’t happening on the street, he was disoriented.

My mind went back to that day when I needed help getting up the hill. It was my turn to do something. I offered to walk him home. His place was only a few blocks from mine anyway, and there was plenty of room on the sidewalk to accommodate social distancing protocols. We had a lovely conversation. It felt so good to connect with another human being.

I’m sure I practiced yoga that day, and I may have even taught, but the strongest expression of my practice on that day was the walk.

Gifts don’t have to be objects

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in a jam and someone (often a stranger) has come through for me. Maybe it’s good luck, but I think it’s more than that. I think that it’s an inherent, unsung goodness that exists in humanity.

I’m not hokey enough or into spiritual bypassing enough to think that everyone is good all the time. There wouldn’t be trauma if everyone was kind and working to alleviate suffering. We know there’s plenty of trauma. I do think that there is an economy based on helping one another, though. It’s a little like the gift economy that Robin Kimmerer describes.

When I needed help and accepted it, it fed my soul. It actually gave me life to receive that expression of care. The memory of my helper is a lifelong gift, and it’s a reminder to look for the moments when I can be that for someone else.

When that person on the street needed help, and I had the capacity to help him, it also fed my soul. It connected me to the kindnesses that I have received and those that have been given and received by people around me. This isn’t a revolutionary act. This is the kind of stuff most people would do if put in a similar situation. It’s humble, but it’s also monumental when you consider what it means.

The universality of our connectedness

When I witness this giving and receiving, it reminds me that seva (selfless service) has many dimensions. The service that comes as naturally as your breath is the one most aligned with that yogic concept of seva.

One of my Lakota relatives, Dave Espinoza, gave a talk to a group of school teachers. He said, “We’re put on this earth to help each other walk in this world.”

Dave's words make me think of Indra’s net. Indra is one of the key figures in the Hindu pantheon. His net has gems at every node, and all the gems have many facets that reflect the facets of all the other gems. Take away one gem, and the entire net changes. All of this makes me think of the way that the trees speak to each other through mycorrhizae interspersed throughout their roots.

It’s the same message played out across many cultures (even tree cultures) for as long as things have formed communities with one another.

We’re all strong and capable, but our ties to one another make us stronger.