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“Allow your breath to be heard. For yourself, but also for your neighbors around you. You may know the person sitting next to you, in front of you or behind you–you may not. The beauty is no matter what background you came from or what you do throughout your life, you all showed up today to practice focus and dedicating it to yourself.”

Despite certified yoga instructor Casey Stroud’s motivational and uplifting introduction to the small yet seemingly enthusiastic yogis, all I could focus on was the undeniable fact that I was making a complete fool of myself among the experienced crowd readily following Stroud’s lead at every command.

Every Wednesday night, the “Yoga Squirrels” Stroud is part of holds free community yoga classes at Patagonia in Old Town Pasadena. Patagonia has incorporated this practice at stores across the nation such as in cities like Santa Cruz, Portland, and Boston with different regional, certified yoga instructors.

According to Portland store manager Aaron Altshuler in an interview with the Oregonian, Patagonia has done this at almost every location in order “to grow the type of events that reach out to athletes who use [their] products.”

The “Yoga Squirrels” obtained their name from their comparison of squirrels to people and the way we both coexist in the world. It is based on learning from erratic squirrels what we can do as erratic people to lead better, more carefree lives. Much like their resourcefulness, we too must “[get] rid of unnecessary … negative beliefs, emotions and memories which limit our faith in love and abundance. We need to lighten our load, physically, mentally and emotionally,” according to their “Manifesto” on their website.

As a yoga-newbie with no experience and nonexistent balance and coordination, the warm welcome translated to a hullabaloo of confusion, embarrassing poses not executed properly, and drastic increase in wanting to melt into the yoga mat. Although the atmosphere Stroud and the “Yoga Squirrels” tries to exemplify is one of “no judgment and open-mindedness,” that did nothing to deter my confusion or ease my lack of understanding.

Because most people who attended the class were experienced members who regularly attend, noted by the personal “welcome”s and “it’s good to see you again”s that pervaded the room, the instructor continually called out yoga poses with brief, easy-to-miss descriptions that left me watching others in order to catch up.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; more power to them if they’re yoga masters, but it can be severely intimidating for those beginners who assume free yoga classes come with the basis of understanding basic yoga poses but are thrown into the deep end not knowing the difference between a Locust Pose and a standard plank.

Stroud continued the lecture with an exercise asking us to focus on our breathing, relax, and enjoy the moment in space and time. After people were given ample time to clear their minds and focus on the sensations in their bodies, the class continued on quickly. It made no difference to me though; time moved agonizingly slow, the seconds measured by the number of times I wanted to leave and never show my inexperienced face ever again.

The instructor was kind, patient, and very friendly. The speed of the class was more of a reflection of her courtesy to those experienced members whom she did not want to slow down since they compose the majority of her class. Even so, Stroud continually walked past myself and others to help with posture, position, and technique.

Throughout the exercises and constant lecturing, Stroud would give various examples and options for students to take; if one position was unmanageable to some they could do a different position or take breaks.

“I’m doing it too, trust me, I know it’s difficult. But it gets easier,” Stroud said, as she modeled how to do the Garudasana, or Eagle Pose, in socks on a hardwood floor.

One of the most relaxing (and easiest) parts of the class for me was laying on the ground with my palms up, feeling my heartbeat, and letting thoughts run through my head unfiltered in order to focus on what I really think and who I really am. The comfort and hospitality of the program could be seen when a student asked if we could turn off all the lights at which Stroud quickly bounded over to oblige.

“Take a moment to be grateful for whatever pops into your mind,” Stroud encouraged. “It could be a human in your life, or something that happened today. Just let your mind be open and free.”

The class itself was too quick-paced and difficult for an ignorant beginner like me to feel comfortable in, but the hospitality and friendliness of the “Yoga Squirrels” was definitely a feat to take part in and be around. Not only are the weekly classes completely free, they also offer yoga mats for those who do not have one, and healthy snacks at the end to wind down with.

Another reason why the “Yoga Squirrels” call themselves such is based in their belief that people  “can sometimes be a little erratic, trying to do many things at once. Take the time to stop, listen and to heed your inner self.”

I will certainly heed the part of my inner self that says I am currently no good at yoga. Despite being unable to follow along with the physical poses, I was able to follow Stroud’s advice to the letter when she said “Just breathe; let whatever happens happen.”

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