Published October 29, 2026 06:02AM
Calin Van Paris is a YJ editor and certified yoga teacher with more than 20 years of practice under her belt. She also likes to know what time it is.
The concept of losing track of time is such a lovely one. To be so caught up in the flow, whether of your yoga practice or your life, that the passing seconds, minutes, and hours no longer hold any meaning. It’s just you, here and now.
This makes so much sense in theory. I really believe this in theory. Even so, when I attend a yoga class, I prefer if there’s a big ol’ clock on the wall.
You may scoff. You may argue that yoga is all about the present moment and a clock can only detract from the experience of existing on your mat.
The annoying part is, you would be correct!
Tuning into your inhalations and exhalations and moving your body to match creates a moving meditation that is among the main draws of an asana practice. In yin yoga—or even just a particularly long hold in any class—accepting that you just have to hang out in the shape is part of the discomfort yoga can help you conquer.
I understand and respect all of this, but mentally, I like knowing what I’m in for.
On a trek in Peru a several years ago, I asked our guide how much longer we had until we reached camp. He pointed to a plateau just ahead, assuring me we were almost there. I took a deep breath in and steeled myself, committing to the last of the day’s 10-miles-at-altitude hike with all of the grit I could muster. When we arrived at the crest, he laughed, and informed me we still had about 25 minutes left.
This tactic does not work for me.
If I’m struggling at any point in glass, the freedom to glance up and get a better idea where I likely stand (or sit or balance) in the instructor’s sequence helps me really tune in. The other option is a mind that wanders and wonders “How much longer?” She gets much quieter if I just let her know.
From a logistical standpoint, an in-studio yoga class is something that I schedule into my day. Yoga usually comes in the morning before work, on a midday lunch break, or in the evening before it’s time to make dinner. Regardless, I’ve got places to be and commitments to honor. Putting my faith into the class’s purported timeframe would be ideal, but let’s be real: we have all been burned by teachers who save Savasana for the class’s scheduled end time without letting us know.
In the grand scheme of things, ten extra minutes of class when a sequence runs long is no biggie. But between wiping down and rolling up my mat and putting away props, a class that runs “a little long” does make a difference. I did not spend an hour (or an hour and ten minutes!) cultivating calm just to make a mad dash out of the studio to keep my day on track. And honestly? I don’t want to have to keep my phone, the distraction devil itself, nearby just in case.
Getting over all of this is probably my yoga. One day I will uncover an aspect of my spirit that can let all of this go, surrendering to exactly where I am in time and space, and trusting that whatever comes after class will unfold exactly as it should.
For now, though, do me a solid an hang a clock on the wall. I would really, really appreciate it.
