By now I had gotten used to Dagmar's voice guiding me through my daily practice. I came deeper into postures than I ever had before during her yin class, and I looked forward to the Sunday night class, Yoga with the Hang.
Many things about Dagmar made me feel joyful: her big smile, the way she looked at you and seemed to know you, how at peace she was with herself and how much she seemed alright with her world. What I admired the most about her though, was her ability to set the stage before a practice. During the week of yoga that I took with her, she reflected out loud upon what “home” as an expat meant for her, leaned into the topic of letting go to be open to receive answers, and she even helped us focus our attention towards self-care and addressing some of the emotions that may be coming up as a result of the heated debates around impending U.S. election day. Her method of teaching and the way she carried herself felt German, practiced, and yet, not-so-German at all, free.
I imagined the kinds of adventures this spirited woman had had and what she might tell us. Fortunately for me, this story came up at "Yoga with the Hang."
This novel instrument had been alluded to all week in classes and my sense of wonder had been built up. Sunday at 6, and as usual, it was already completely pitch-black dark in Montezuma. I showed up early to candlelight and the sound of ocean waves just 500 meters in front of us.
There it sat, front and center. Intitally, it looked like a tortoise shell. Then it started to look like an oversize wok -maybe because I was hungry.
Dagmar's partner, Daniel, began to warmup along with everyone else in the room too. Dagmar's usual way of beginning the class was with a story or an anecdote. She talked about the story of her and Daniel's relationship, how they met as expat and international traveler in Costa Rica, fell in love after knowing each other for less than a week, and then met up around different parts of the world. A short time after their falling in love, Daniel mentioned his interest in this hang instrument, and then began what I can only describe as a quest and chase around the world to get one for himself and to learn to play one.
As loves do for each other, Dagmar and Daniel did for each other. Traveling with a friend on a road trip, having made a stop at a yoga festival, Dagmar and a friend talked together of things they saw at the festival and the friend mentioned the hang instrument being played at the festival came up. Having missed this, Dagmar immediately turned the car around to see this man at the festival who could play the hang.
I couldn't do the full story justice here, but I remember feeling their excitement, their love story, sitting in the front row as she told the story of how it came to be that they played yoga and the hang side-by-side once every two weeks at Montezuma Yoga and during the retreats that they lead together. Dagmar twisted effortlessly to face behind her as yoga teachers do and faced Daniel, “And do you want to add anything to that, Daniel?”
I've included a clip to share with you.
It's what Daniel said in reply to Dagmar. It then moves into the beginning of practice and into a beautiful surprise at the end of practice. Check this 8-minute clip.
The weight of the hang was balanced by a bottom crevice on one of his hands. He simultaneously lifted and twirled this strange wok and with his other hand, a series of quick vibrations strung together rang. It was unlike any other sound that I'd never heard before, not quite like a Jamaican pan drum, not quite like something you'd expect to hear coming from something that looks like it's made of wood. My eyes, and probably my mouth, were open with in awe.
About the hang:
Only a limited amount exist in the world -a limited number were made each year by hand, and according to wikipedia, the manufacturer of this instrument is no longer “manufacturing” them!
Each hang is unique and has a different sound
It's difficult, perhaps impossible, to harmonize with another hang player (If you're reading this, and you can play the hang, maybe you can fly out to beautiful Montezuma and jam with Daniel!)
Throughout the hour-long class, I developed a nice flow through Dagmar's fluid instruction. I felt joy, I felt gratitude, and I felt love.
As we neared shavasana and the class's end, rain began to beat on the roof, almost as if by nature's design. Ceremoniously, gently, the hang's music made its exit as the end of rainy season, its last showers, cleared the air once more.
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