Airport Asana

By Brooke Hewes, 6-19-08

	Caption: Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport—not a bad spot for yoga.

Yesterday I flew from my home in Missoula to visit family in Connecticut. There are certain guilty pleasures I allow myself while flying: mindless magazines, bubblegum, random conversation with strangers. I also enjoy the instant diversity and the unwritten but well-understood rule that it’s OK to eavesdrop, at least on your in-flight neighbors. And, as of yesterday, the not-so-guilty pleasure of practicing yoga.

And I do mean asana.

Between my flight from Missoula and my flight to Hartford, I had a comfortable layover in the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. From past stops I knew of a quiet nook on the second floor, above and away from the streams of people and side-by-side storefronts. (In fact, last year during the nearly five hours we found ourselves in this exact terminal, my husband I retreated to this couch-filled room to watch DVDs that we conveniently rented from a stall in front of Rocky Mountain Chocolates.)

Yesterday, with my yoga mat rolled tightly in its bag and slung from my shoulder, I navigated my way to this quiet spot. I pushed the L-shaped couches against the walls, rolled out my mat, removed my shoes and socks, and began practicing. As I stretched up my arms in virabhadrasana I (warrior pose) and out in virabhadrasana II, I could hear arrivals and departures being announced over the loud speaker. I could picture the crowds bustling beneath my bare feet. Looking up beyond my thumbs in utthita trikonasana (extended triangle pose), I could see the florescent lights of the terminal’s ceiling and what looked like wafts of dense scent from the Chinese food stand below—still, I felt quiet enough to settle into vinyasa.

People walked by, one person even walked in, but I continued and so did they. And though I sorta missed my airport amble and the guilty chocolate-involving pleasures it affords, I was certainly more grounded and relaxed for my final flight. And a bit giggly; I felt full of a sweet secret as I walked through the terminal—hair a bit tasseled, legs and spine long, heart open— toward my gate.