Student Profiles

In The Bhagavad-Gita, one of Yoga's oldest and most influential scriptures, Arjuna, the warrior/student, asks Lord Krishna questions about Life. In this spirit of questions posed and answered between two yogis, Yoga Community will be dialoguing with students and teachers here in the newsletter and on our web-site.

Ashley Borovicka is a not only a dedicated yogi who delights in hours on her mat in Yoga Community classes, she works as a "Karma Yogi" at the studio on Tuesday and Saturday mornings. Happy to be helping the studio in exchange for classes, she is also enjoying this opportunity to get to know more of you. Read more about Ashley's fascinating and touching story.

Ashley Borovicka

Our first dialogue was with Elfriede Whitcher, on a hot, spring, Sonoma evening following Barbra Brady's Tantric Hatha Yoga class.

Elfriede Whitcher

Local winemaker and Yoga Community student Dave Noyes recently took a few minutes out of his busy schedule (and cell phone!) and pulled up a chair next to our own pourer--that would be our copper fountain--to discuss yoga, wine-making, and the intersection of both passions.

Dave Noyes

Lisa Topolos has been a delightful regular feature, and fan, of Yoga Community for a few years now. The moment she steps in the studio, her energy inspires us all--just chatting with Lisa is a true yoga experience, meaning joyful!

LisaTopolos

As this page was being updated with a profile of regular student Matt Lund, he was just stepping out of his red Mustang wearing a Mighty Mouse mask. Yes, it is Halloween on this day, but that's also Matt's happy spirit at play!

Matt Lund

 

Sitting with the Snake
by Lynda Martel

A poem from student Lynda Martel, written during as she participated in Yoga Community's Spring Detox, 2008

It's a glorious day,weather-wise, and I had been on a long bike ride
- but wanted to get more sun.
I threw a blanket and some books into my back pack and took off for
the town square in search of some unoccupied lawn.
I didn't have to go as far as town after all.

At the end of the street that runs alongside my apartment, there is a
little park.
Until I came upon it on my bike, I had forgotten it was there.
The park is small and quiet - and the expanse of green, lush lawn
rolls out from the bike path into a well-manicured semi-circle
bordered on three sides by thick brush.
Perfect!
I walked the bike to the far back area of the lawn and spread out my
blanket at the edge of some cooling shade, cast by the large and
twisted branches of a California oak tree.
The sun was hot, but a breeze kept the air tolerable and comfortable.
I began to read, but it wasn't too long before the heat of the sun
began to lull me to sleep.
I put the book aside, lay my head down, and watched tiny ants and
beetles make their dizzy way up and down stems of grass jutting up at
the edge of my blanket.
I wondered what other creatures called this expanse of lawn and brush
their home...and then I dozed off.

The time passed lazily by.
The ants and beetles continued their arduous journeys to who knew where.
I flipped over and covered my face with a hat.
And drifted off again - letting the sounds of the birds and planes
and far-off voices float in and out of my consciousness.

I flipped over once more and began to read.
And it was then that I saw the snake.
No more than 5 feet in front of me.

I'm surprised I didn't jump - but I was too curious to move.
Where did it come from?
How did I not see it before I put my blanket down?
I had considered there might be snakes in the grass and scanned the
area carefully before choosing a place to lie down.
Had it seen me from the beginning?
Was it making its way along the grass towards me?
Or, was it just as surprised to come across something like me in its
path.

It looked somewhat like a rattler -- which do exist in this area.
I tried to remember the name of another snake that looked similar and
wasn't deadly.
The snake was eyeing me back -- I wondered what it wondered about me?
I wanted it to move -- it looked about 2.5 feet long -- and it
sported very striking brown patches along its back.
I wanted to see the end of its tail. I wanted to know what it was.

I slowly sat up, packed everything in my pack, and walked a bit
closer to the snake.
If it was a rattler, I thought, it would surely raise its tail and
head in defense.
It didn't. It didn't do anything at all. It just gazed back at me
with its dark black eye.
Motionless.

I put my pack down, a bit closer to the snake, and sat on the pack.
I had plenty of time. I was relaxed and sitting in the sun.
I would wait the snake out -- I wanted to see it move.

It was a stalemate. We eyed each other carefully.
Beetles used my arms for landing pads.
Ants creeped up and over the back of the snake.
Neither of us moved.

Ten to 15 minutes later, the snake's tongue began to flicker.
It's head swayed side to side in quick, short beats.
And then, it stretched its neck out long and pulled its body
slllllooooooowwwwllllyy through the grass and away from me.
I watched until it crossed the barren edging of dirt between the lawn
and the border of tangled brush...and there it disappeared.

Smiling and satisfied, I picked up my bike to go.
And saw another object from the corner of my eye.
Just beyond my front tire, peering up at me demurely from the safety
of its earthen hole, was a little black vole.

Dinner.
Missed.
By the snake.