Yoga Class: A Tale of Mats, Mindfulness, and a Community Built by Accident (and on Purpose)

People are wild. They never cease to crack me up (and often find a way to drive me crazy). “Everything I Know About Animal Behavior, I Learned in Lohman’s Department Store,” written by one of America’s great humorists, Irma Bombeck, is a collection of essays that was super informative and totally perfect for the last few weeks of room arrangement. Bombeck had a way of taking the poison out of life’s realities, seeing the funny and poignent in the most mundane of human experiences… you’ll forgive me for finding mat arrangement blasé, I’m sure. But, hey, if there’s one thing Irma Bombeck taught me, it’s that ordinary moments often hold extraordinary lessons—if you just look at them right.

If you’re new to Ashtanga Yoga, you’d be forgiven for think it’s all about stretching into shapes you never knew existed, trying to control your breathing, or maybe preventing your body from making embarrassing noises during a particularly difficult twist. But after a while, no doubt, you’ll look closer. We can see that there’s a lot more going on than meets the eye– down to how you put down a mat. If you allow it to be, your mat can become a platform for something greater: a daily declaration of your values. I’m not being hyperbolic. I believe that each day it is a very real opportunity to EASILY align your actions where your ideals– one in which exists a socially thriving community, all brought together by our best intentions and maybe just a hint of love. We’re making our future over here, after all– of what do you want it made? Greed? Nah, dog.

The Power of Self-Organization (Reinforcing Loop 1: “Are You Going to Scoot Over or What?”)

Now, it might seem simple—people organizing their mats before class. But there’s magic in that simple act. You see, when we show up, we’re each just a person with a mat, wandering aimlessly in search of our place in the room. And then it happens: we self-organize. Nobody told us to, but we each scoot over a bit to make room for others. One mat moves closer to another, someone adjusts an inch, and a spot opens up. It’s like an unspoken Tetris game, and somehow, we all fit.

This act of mat-shuffling is no small thing. In fact, it’s the backbone of our yoga class community. When we self-organize, we optimize space. And when space is used well, there’s room for everyone—including that shy newcomer lingering at the door. Suddenly, there’s a sense of belonging, an inclusive energy that says, “Yes, you belong here too.” And that’s not just about finding a place for your mat; that’s the beginning of real community.

The more welcoming the space becomes, the more people want to be a part of it. Folks return, even as leadership shifts or different teachers come and go. It’s no longer about the instructor standing at the front—the community has organized itself, grown roots, and become resilient. Nobody really notices it, but that little scoot-over to make space becomes the foundation for something enduring. Without realizing it, we’ve reduced fragility by putting strength into the group itself.

Conscientiousness and Friendliness (Reinforcing Loop 2: “It’s Nice to Be Nice”)

The yoga mat, once a barrier to keep sweaty strangers away, also becomes a bridge. Once you’ve moved over to make room for someone else, there’s suddenly more eye contact, more smiles, and a sense of connectedness. It’s not just about organizing the mats; it’s about organizing ourselves. We become conscientious, not only about our own space but about how our actions make others feel.

We start noticing when someone new needs a bit of help, or when someone’s fumbling to figure out which way to face their mat. We extend a little friendliness—a nod, a quick, “Hey, that was challenging when I first started, too,” or a smile that says, “You’re in the right place.” It’s funny, but this little bit of effort, this conscientiousness, actually makes us all a little happier. It turns out that kindness is a wonderful loop—the more we offer, the better the entire room feels.

Soon, those healthier relationships form the backbone of long-term happiness. We’re no longer just people doing yoga; we’re part of a group that looks out for each other. This positive atmosphere means more people are likely to show up—they’re here for the yoga, sure, but also for the connection. And as people feel connected, they contribute even more to the environment, nurturing a cycle that makes the community thrive.

When We Don’t Scoot Over (Balancing Loop 1: “Nobody Wants to Be The Odd Man OutI)

Now, not every story has a happy ending. If we didn’t self-organize—if we all just plopped our mats down wherever we felt like—well, it’s easy to imagine how that would go. Some people would end up with all the space in the world, and others would be pressed against the walls, or worse, outside, relegated to the Sunrise room, hearing the giggles and good breathing from far away. Pretty soon, the energy in the room shifts. Nobody’s making eye contact, and nobody’s scooting over because it’s every yogi for themselves. It’s no longer welcoming, and you’d better believe that when something stops being welcoming, people stop coming.

Without that welcoming atmosphere, the community gets fragile. It depends too much on whoever is in charge to fix thing. And, if you don’t particularly see the value in creating a welcoming environment, you’re gonna burn the teacher out, anyway. And as leadership shifts, the whole thing falls apart. People drift away, classes shrink, and before you know it, what was once a thriving, self-sustaining group has dwindled. The moral? It pays to scoot over.

The Heart of It All: Supporting the Ones Who Stand Up (by moving over)

At the Yoga Club, we know we rely on you guys to keep the doors open, and so means that we sometimes choose community values over avoidance of discomfort– and that’s intentional. We’re investing in doing quality work, in making this a place that sustains itself and offers deep, valuable practices. But at the core, our aim is to support those who are out there standing up for their communities—the organizers, the advocates, the ones who work tirelessly to bring people together. They’re the ones getting the permits, organizing rallies, keeping our rights to assemble alive and vibrant. Our programs are here to nurture those who create change at the grassroots level, ensuring they have a space to recharge, to find strength, and to keep going. That means each and every one of you doing the radical act of self discovery. Becoming who you are is a radical act. 

And, let’s face it, activism is uncomfortable. It’s dirty, sweaty, and doesn’t fit neatly into a schedule. It disrupts traffic, interrupts routine, and sometimes makes people grumble about inconvenience. And sometimes activism means scooting closer to a wall than you might like. But real change isn’t meant to be convenient—and thank goodness for that.