Be Still and Know: A Restorative Yoga Class Sequence + Spiritual Practice
Back in June, as part of my Yoga Teacher Training, I taught a yoga class that is hosted by area churches called Be Still and Know.
Be Still and Know is a restorative yoga class that is both gentle movement and spiritual practice. It’s a beautiful collection of the things I love most about yoga!
It was so fun for me to walk through the experience of putting this yoga class together, so I thought I would share the themes and my (very rough draft) sequence drawing that I used.
The stars in the script are the break in the content where I added movement.
Script for Be Still and Know Class:
Psalm 46:10 is the verse where we find the words “Be Still and Know.”
The command to be still in this verse comes from the Hebrew verb that translates:
to be weak
to let go
to release
To be still is to let go.
When we are still, we release control.
We release striving.
We can be present to this moment.
***
Recently I read a story from Sue Monk Kidd’s book When the Heart Waits that has been helpful to me as I have sought stillness in my own life.
While she is visiting an abbey on a retreat, she tells this story:
One day after morning prayers, I walked to the edge of the pond and sat on the grass. I listened to the wind sigh over the water and tried to be still, to simply be there and wait in the moment. But almost instantly my inner chaos rose up. The need to keep moving, to act, to solve everything overpowered me. I got to my feet.
As I returned to the guest quarters, I noticed a monk, ski cap pulled over his ears, sitting perfectly still beneath a tree. There was such reverence in his silhouette, such tranquil sturdiness, that I paused to watch. He was the picture of waiting.
Later I sought him out, “I saw you today sitting beneath the tree — just sitting so still. How is it that you can wait so patiently in the moment? I just can’t seem to get used to the idea of doing nothing.”
He broke into a wonderful grin. “Well, there’s the problem right there, young lady. You’ve bought into the cultural myth that when you’re waiting you’re doing nothing.”
Then he took his hands and placed them on my shoulders, peered straight into my eyes and said, “I hope you’ll hear what I’m about to tell you. I hope you’ll hear it all the way down to your toes. When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing the most important something there is. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.”
When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing.
You’re doing the most important something there is.
***
Stillness, along with solitude and silence, is a place of becoming. Of transformation.
Our stillness, the undisturbed glass lake of our soul, is a place we can always come back to, like child’s pose.
After the wind blows and waves rise on our lake, we can return again to stillness. The waves can subside. The wind can get quiet. We can be still again.
Our bodies get still first, but then slowly we can also be still in our minds.
Let go.
Let go of what we need to do.
Let go of what we didn’t get done today.
Can we be still?
When you’re being still,
you’re not doing nothing.
You’re doing the most important something there is.
***
On the days we wake up overwhelmed with all the things we have to do, when our minds are rushed with thoughts of everything that must be done, can we be still?
In these moments, to be still is both
a way to trust
and
a way to quietly, bravely rebel.
When there is so much to do and we refuse to rush,
but instead we stop
and be still,
we are courageously choosing not to conform to the ways of the world.
***
When the rush of the to do list is coming for us like a tidal wave,
but instead of trying to outrun it,
we stop
and be still.
We are trusting.
Trusting that God will take care of us.
He will not let the wave come crashing down on us.
Or if He allows the waters to rise around us, He will also provide what we need.
We can say:
Oh Lord, I know you will not let me drown.
And so I will be still.
These are the silent assents we make when we choose stillness.
Quiet brave declarations that we will choose stillness over hurry.
When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing.
You’re doing the most important something there is.
May you have the courage to be still this week.
