Bench Warming

Last night, I enjoyed a Krishna Das kirtan, or chanting concert. Das is, as my mother-in-law says, the Bruce Springsteen of yoga music. What a pleasure to see a virtuoso in his element. His voice and band were great, but better still was watching his easy banter between the chants.

I found myself in a funny location, though: the front pew of the Unitarian Universalist church where the concert was held. I went to the show with two girlfriends. One moved to sit front and center on the well-lit floor before the stage; the other retreated to the back of the sanctuary, standing in the darkness. I was in a liminal space: at the edge of the light, I didn’t have the anonymity of the audience in the dark rows of seats, nor was I a full, active participant like those on the floor. I realized afterward that I felt like I was warming the bench, waiting to be called into the game.
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