A note on taking notes.

A photo of the moment I realized I should write about this. Wednesday, October 20, around 10am CST.

It took me over a decade to give myself permission to jot down ideas while I’m doing a body practice. I am a little embarrassed to admit that. But, I got deeply into yoga by taking group classes, and all groups have rules.

I don’t remember ever asking if I could take notes in a non-workshop setting. I would have imagined it being distracting for others. More importantly, I was under the assumption that, in this space of practice, thoughts themselves are a distraction, like flies circling. And people don’t collect flies.

People do, however, collect rare and beautiful things. And some thoughts are that.

Over years of rolling out my mat alone, I’ve become sensitized to the fact that the physical unwinding reliably produces moving emotional and psychological swells. A title for an essay, a vision of a painting, or a new insight into something that’s felt heavy. At first, I just hoped I’d remember when I was finished (I normally don’t).

Eventually I gave myself permission to keep a notepad next to me in case something arises.

But, you might wonder, isn’t the purpose of yoga to still the mind? No, I don’t think so. The purpose is to experience life as someone with access to that stillness.

The stillness is being touched at other moments, quieter internal moments that we probably don’t remember very well: little slips into the stream of being. My hunch is that it is this moving between stillness and thought that allows thinking to become clearer, sharper, and more spacious.