Yoga in Spanish

Well, I had a little bit of an adventure last night. I, James, and MacKenzie, friends from school, decided to go to a Yoga class. We met at Maryknoll and took a taxi to the yoga studio. None of us knew exactly where the yoga studio was. We trusted that the taxi driver would know how to get there as long as we provided the address. This was a bad idea in retrospect. The taxi driver did not know the address either. We drove around for a while. He stopped twice to ask other taxi drivers about this yoga studio. One driver directed us to the general location of the studio. The second driver told us the exact location. Each time we stopped for directions, we all could hear a string of words coming from the mouth of our taxi driver. We all imagined them to be bad words and being directed toward us. When we arrived at the yoga studio, we tipped our driver at least 15 Bs in addition to the cost of the ride. 15 Bs is roughly 2 American dollars. It was guilt that made us tip more.
We entered into the yoga studio. The yoga studio is a house which is divided into several rooms. There is a different class in each room. This type of setup provided a peaceful and relaxing atmosphere. Tonight, our class was the only one in the studio. First, we needed to pay for the class and find out if there is room in the class. The class was the same amount of money as the tip that we gave to our taxi driver. Fortunately, there was enough room for the three of us. We walked through the wrong door to get to the yoga room. Our instructor politely told us to walk out and go into the side door. We had to remove our shoes, and grab mats, a block, and a blanket. The room was small and we all had to be extremely close to each other. I think there were about 15 people in the class. Our instructor said that the class was going to be in both English and Spanish because of us. We told our instructor that we all were learning Spanish so it would actually be beneficial for her to speak in Spanish. The majority of the class was in Spanish. She insisted to speak in English at various times so we could understand the positions.
This yoga class was a combination of Hatha flow and Yengar. Hatha flow yoga is focused on the fluidity of the movements. Through a repetition of moves, a person becomes familiar with each move and slowly builds up endurance to hold each position longer. I consider Hatha yoga as a great introduction to yoga. It is more for beginners. Yengar yoga is focused on holding each position for 2-3 minutes at a time. In holding each position, a person develops muscle and eventually able to hold the position for a longer length of time. Yengar yoga is definitely for more experienced persons.
The class started with Hatha as a way to warm up our bodies. Then, she began using Yengar. The class was little over an hour. She showed us positions that I have never done. One position was using the block and the wall as a prop. We walked four and half steps on our mat. We then placed our right hand on the block, lifted our left leg up and put our left leg on the wall. Our right leg remained on the mat. My hips still hurt this morning. The class was exhausting and wonderful. She invited us to come back to this class and try other classes at the studio.

Update Part 2

I spent my month of December saying good-bye to friends and family. One good-bye moment took place in St. Louis. Ah.. St. Louis is a city that I fell completely in love with. It is a city of “firsts.” I volunteered for a year after college through the Gateway Vincentian Volunteers. My volunteer placement site was Places for People. Places for People then became my first job. I got into first car accident and consequently, it was my first car that I took to the junk yard. I became part of the peace and justice movement. I even offered to go to jail for peace. I did not go to jail. However, I met so many people whose focus is creating a just world and will work for it. I became part of a parish that is loving and welcoming to anyone who enters through its doors. I met my friends that have been so crucial for me in getting to this point in my life. I became an adult.

My visit to St. Louis was filled with so much love. I experienced this love when I walked through the doors at Places for People. Every client had their arms open for a hug; their eyes lit up with excitement; their smiles became bigger and bigger. This was only the entrance. I still needed to make my way through the rest of the building. A dance was held in my honor. As I danced with my clients, I kept hearing, “Is she back for good? She lost weight. She looks happy. Did she meet her husband in DC?” I had my favorite lunch. It included lasagna, salad, and jello cake. My favorite part of this Places for People moment was seeing my best friend. She got off work early and came by to see me. We then talked endlessly to our friends at Places. She later took me to our favorite coffee shop and to dinner with our friends. This by far was the best welcome that I could ever receive. It is a moment that I will never forget.

This was only one of my many wonderful experiences in St. Louis. Each experience taught me that I will not be forgotten. Each friend has a story that has helped me get to this moment. Each client at Places for People can remember something about me whether it was my favorite food or riding my bike to work even in the coldest weather. There are so many stories about me that it is impossible to forget me. This is a good feeling to have as I prepare to go to mission. I know that I have a huge community in St. Louis. This huge community is supporting me in wanting me to be the best person that I can be. It is such an amazing moment to have in my memory. I am a lucky girl to be loved by so many people.

Update Long Overdue

Yikes! It has been a while since I last wrote. Well, I can give an update as to what has happened to me. I celebrated my birthday in November. It is a birthday that I will remember because it was the last one in the United States until I come back from mission. It was special in that the focus was spending time with my brother and his family rather than gift giving. For a brief weekend, it was as if I had been living in New Jersey for my entire life. I was absorbed into all of their family activities. We went to their garden and planted autumn vegetables. I went grocery shopping and chose what I wanted for my birthday breakfast which was raspberry whole wheat pancakes and soy chocolate milk. I went trick or treating my niece who was dressed up as Lady train from Thomas and Friends. I attended mass and received many kisses and hugs from my brother and his family. I went to a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese because it was my niece’s friend’s birthday. After the birthday party, my niece and I played at lot of games while my brother made dinner. Then, after playing and eating dinner, we all walked to CVS and picked out birthday ice cream. It was amazing because my gift from brother involved just being present to him and his family.

Another event in November involved my commissioning as a Franciscan Lay Missioner at St. Camillus Catholic Church in Silver Spring, Md. This experience was absolutely incredible. I as well as my other missioners stood in front of this community. As I stood in front of this community, I was thinking that I am doing this. There is no going back now. I am going to Bolivia to learn a way of life that is completely different from my own. I am going to be present to a people that are strangers to me now, but soon they will be part of my community. I am going to be transformed in ways that are unknown to me right now. My capacity to love is going to increase because my heart will be open to receiving love. I am answering the call to mission.

How did you get here?

I should use a proper greeting in this first blog post. It is only natural that I introduce myself to all of my readers. My name is Clare Lassiter. I am a missioner in training with the Franciscan Mission Service in Washington, D.C. I have one sister and one brother who is married to an amzing girl. They have the cutest 3 year old I know. My parents are alive and well in Virginia. So, back to answering the question...

Well, I could answer this question in several ways. First, I could say that I drove in a car from St. Louis to Washington, D.C. Next, I could say that my mom gave birth to me. All of these answers are sarcastic in response. However, I like to say that how I decided to become a lay missioner with the Franciscan Mission Service came from an experience in the Dominican Republic.

During my senior year in college, there was an advertisement about participating in an alternative spring break. I had heard of these type of breaks from my sister but never actually participated in one of them. An alternative spring break focused on doing volunteer work either in a foreign country or around the United States. This year, it was in the Dominican Republic. The requirements for participation were fundraising, being open and flexible, and doing some kind of manual labor. I figured that I could totally do this. I have a background in construction due to my dad and I am sure that I raise money for this project. I did not know Spanish but fortunately, the Peace Corp volunteer who helped to coordinate this break was fluent in it.

Although my intention during this week in the Dominican Republic was to help build a bank, I realized the real work was in being present to a family that I had met. I met this family through looking out for Joel, who is their son. He was running barefoot through the construction area which had nails and pieces of wood strewn throughout. All of these things can be painful especially in the foot. I know because it had happened to me as a wee one. I would yell out danger in Spanish because it was the only word that I knew at the time. I showed him the nails and wood and try to model how it is painful to step on it. He was a tough crowd so we ended playing. It involved running on a dirt road and trying to catch each other. I liked this job a lot more than the actual construction of the bank. So, the mom observed me doing this and called out to the Peace Corp volunteer to invite me into her home and show me how she provides for her family. At first, I did not want to do it. I thought that it was degrading to women. Women should have the choice to have a career, babies or do both. After all, it is the 21st century.

I soon got over that attitude and went inside her home. I would be rude if I did not go inside. When I entered into her home, I noticed the smile on her face. She was proud to show me how she makes food for family. She pointed out where she gets the water to wash clotehes. She directed my eyes to look at where she hangs the pots on the kitchen wall. She showed me all the toys that her husband makes for the kids, including Joel. At that moment, I let go of all of my attitudes about women in the Domincan Republic especially her. I saw the Divine in her which I had be reluctant to see before. All I did was to be there in her home with her. I was present to her.

So, how does this story answer the original question? Well, I knew that at that moment, I was ruined for life. I wanted to volunteer on a full-time basis at least for a year in the United States and eventually, I wanted to be an overseas missioner. We all know that volunteering does not pay.