When the door Closes
Last week, something happened in the yoga studio that stayed with me.
The class had just begun. The door was closed, only a minute or two past the starting time. I usually wait one extra minute, so that those who are running a little late can still join. But after that, I begin. Not out of rigidity, but out of respect, for the practice, and for the people who arrived mindfully, ready to settle into stillness.
A few more minutes into the class, I heard the outside door open and then close, loudly.
Later I learned that someone had arrived several minutes late, and when the host gently told her the class had already started, she became upset. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the quiet room, just as I was guiding everyone into meditation.
At first, I felt surprised. Yoga, after all, is meant to be a space of awareness, not reaction. But then I paused. I realised this is a beautiful mirror for the human experience: expectation, disappointment, the pull of the ego, and the invitation to respond with awareness instead of reaction.
Because haven’t we all had moments like that, moments when something doesn’t go our way, when life says “not now,” and our immediate impulse is frustration, blame, or disappointment?
It’s so human.
We prepare, we expect, we plan, and yet life unfolds differently. The mind quickly takes over: But I had such a long day. I tried my best. Why me? Why now?
And suddenly, the present moment, which could be met with softness, becomes a battlefield of resistance.
In yoga philosophy, discipline (tapas) is not just about rules or punctuality. It’s about presence, the willingness to show up with awareness, not haste. To arrive early, not because someone tells us to, but because we value the transition, the settling of the nervous system, the soft landing into stillness.
But sometimes, we arrive late. Sometimes, we rush. Sometimes, we slam doors. And in those moments, we are simply being shown another layer of the practice.
Reflections
Can I meet this moment, the one that didn’t go as planned, with grace?
Can I sit with my disappointment instead of acting from it?
Can I recognize that this, too, is yoga?
It’s easy to “do yoga”, to attend classes, move through postures, or sit in meditation when everything aligns. It’s much harder to live yoga when life doesn’t go our way. When the door closes, literally or figuratively, can we stay open inside?
Every moment offers us a choice: to add another layer of suffering, or to soften into what is. To slam the door, or to breathe. To fight what is happening, or to ask, What is this moment trying to show me about myself? What if the closed door is not rejection, but invitation?
A gentle reminder that peace is not something we find in a quiet studio, but something we cultivate within, wherever we are. Perhaps the real yoga begins right there, in the space between expectation and acceptance. Not on the mat, but in the moment we realize: I can meet this, too, with awareness.
So maybe the next time a door closes, whether in a studio, a conversation, or in life, we can pause before reacting. We can take a breath. We can notice the mind’s stories and choose not to feed them.
And instead of saying, ‘I missed my yoga class’, we might whisper, ‘Maybe yoga found me anyway.’
*Dutch
Wanneer het leven even niet stroomt zoals we hopen, opent zich een dieper pad van bewustwording.
Elke gesloten deur laat ons zien waar we ons perspectief vernauwen, waarin we nog mogen zakken en verzachten, waar we ruimte en openheid mogen scheppen.
In Yoga in het Leven verkennen we precies dat, hoe je de wijsheid van yoga kunt leven, in elk moment van de dag.