Tag Archives: Yoga

Yes, another fart post. There goes *that* resolution.

16 Jan

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My entire life, I’ve been told I “seem wiser than my age” or “have an old soul” or “am mature beyond my years.”

Boy, that “Playdoh with Plato” class my parents enrolled me in as a preschooler was money well spent. Actually, no, there isn’t really a class named that.

But as a kid I often did enjoy conversing with my parents’ adult friends more than kids my own age. When I first started working, I was given responsibility that aligned to someone 10+ years my senior because everyone assumed I was older. That trend continued for years.

So it’s somewhat ironic, then, that I function like a twelve year old when it comes to fart humor. I was reminded of this yesterday at yoga, when the girl next to me was clearly not having a good workout. When we started the ab portion of the class and began doing crunches, she squeaked out an audible fart. I would’ve been able to rise above it, were it not for one thing: her reaction.

Instead of continuing with her workout in a way that could’ve cast doubt as to who the culprit really was, she immediately collapsed onto her back and lay as still as a corpse while the rest of us continued hammering out crunches. It was the equivalent of seeing a football official throw a flag on a play, directing everyone’s attention to the field to spot the problem.

This gave me the giggles. I might have worked past them, had two other things not happened.

First, she did it again, the next time we did sit-ups. (Have you learned NOTHING?!) I’m thinking we need another version of the the, “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…” adage to help this poor girl learn from her mistakes.

And second, later in the workout, when we shifted from down-dog to plank (a very routine move) she collapsed. She hit the floor with an audible thud/moan combo. Half the class stopped and turned around, thinking they would see teeth scattered around on her mat.

I know, this really isn’t funny. And it’s mean of me to laugh at someone else’s embarrassment. I really do try to be a better person, to rise above it. But if it’s any excuse, I think things like this tickle me so much not because I’m enjoying her misfortune, but rather because I’m relieved it’s not me. Because another day, in another class, it has been very well could be.

 

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I think *someone* needs a New Year cleanse.

2 Jan

I closed out 2011 by hitting a vinyasa yoga class Saturday morning before Alan and I left for our mini-getaway. Man, am I glad I did: it’s not every day your yoga instructor is drunk.

At least, I assume she was still buzzing from the night before. That’s actually giving her the benefit of the doubt. Otherwise, I’m not sure how I’d explain this class to a first-time yogi…

She walked in and said, “So. Wow. It’s New Year’s Eve. Well, not eve. But New Year’s Day Eve. Eve Day. You know what I mean, right?”

People were giggling, but generally going with her. Then she began her soliloquy.

“So the new year is a great time for reflection. And introspection. There are milestones and this is a big milestone. I mean, it’s a WHOLE NEW YEAR. Right? And how great is that? I don’t know about you, but I’m glad to see 2011 done. It was a weird year for me. Just really, really weird. Man, I hope 2012 is better. Because this is a time to reflect about what we want. And I want a better year. And we are all humans, and our energy joins together and if we raise it up… I’m getting choked up! I’m choking on my words!”

I wish I could tell you I took artistic license with that quote in the interest of humor. But I didn’t. That’s more or less what she said, though I think my version is less rambling than the actual speech. I’m pretty sure this is why yoga gets a bad rap.

And for the two people who weren’t smirking after this babble-fest, she took it up a notch. “I mean, a new year is a big deal. But this year? Not to be freaky or anything, but it’s 2012. You know: 2012! The world might be ending! Dom-dom-dom! Seriously, I quit my job because I was like, ‘If the world really DOES end in 2012, I want to LIVE now. Pretty intense, right?”

(c) FullChordPress - by Tim Garrett (www.fullchordpress.com)

After she “re-centered” herself, she continued. “So I had a whole lesson planned for this morning’s class, but I got an email on my way here from another yogi who teaches at another studio across town with 20 questions for reflection. So I thought it would be good to read these to you so you can meditate on them during today’s practice.”

She then went on to read all 20 questions rapid-fire. I barely had time to process one question before she moved on to the next. The only one I was able to fully digest was, “What was a source of unexpected joy in your life this year?” And reason I retained that one is because she paused and said, “Right? Like my sister had a baby this year. And that was totally unexpected. Huge surprise. Huge.”

Much like that yoga class. Unexpected joy, though probably for the wrong reasons.

Call me Nostradamus, but I think it’s safe to predict what her biggest source of unexpected joy will be  2012: waking up to realize the world didn’t end. In fact, I’ll go one further. Biggest lesson learned in 2012? Not to max out her credit cards based on the Mayan calendar.

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A Tip for the Yogis

27 Nov
Little Kitteh says “Namewste.”

For the yoga teachers who read my blog, let me offer you a tip: Keep the chanting simple.

We usually open and close class with a single group “OM.” I’ll admit, the first time I attended a yoga class, it freaked me out. For a minute I thought I’d accidentally joined a cult and they were going to shave my hair off while my eyes were closed.

But then I started to dig it. There’s something pretty powerful about people united in purpose, joining their voices together. It’s a good reminder of the interconnectedness of all life.

So now I’m cool with an OM, or even three OMs if we have an enthusiastic instructor, though sometimes I can’t stop my mind from focusing on the one clearly tone deaf person who seems to be willfully trying to create discord. (<–BTW, just me or does it seem like that word should be spelled “dischord?”)

However, one thing I am decidedly NOT cool with are the instructors who try to get all creative and work in full chants. I’ll use what is perhaps the simplest of chants to explain why chants – in general – are a bad idea.

Let’s take, “Om. Shanti. Shanti. Shanti.” It’s an invocation of peace, which is nice in theory. And the words are simple and easy to remember. The thing that makes it a mess is that the first two “shantis” go down tonally (like “Mary” in “Mary Had a Little Lamb) but the third “shanti” goes up.

While that seems pretty simple, inevitably there will be a new person in class who doesn’t know that. They try to play along and go with the crowd. They are timid on the first “Shanti” but then more confident on the second one since it’s a repetition of the first. But then, just when they’ve worked themselves up to full participation and go to belt out that third “Shanti,” the rest of the class throws a curve ball.

Now do you understand why it's called Porky Piggin?

It’s like we all told the person it was “No Pants Friday” but then when he shows up Porky Piggin, the rest of us are fully clothed.

This exact thing happened today, and the poor dude who got orphaned on the third “Shanti” scrambled to try to get his pitch to match the rest of the class. The result was that he sounded like Peter Brady when his voice was changing. And it struck me as ridiculously funny. So I started laughing. To the point where I had tears coming out my eyes.

When we opened our eyes and bowed to say “Namaste” (meaning “the light in me bows to the light in you”), I remained face-down on my mat, shaking with laughter. Someone else from class is probably home right now, writing her own blog entry about the crazy girl that was so moved by her practice, she wept.

I guess it depends how you define “moved.”

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List: 2 things that are more terrifying than expected.

23 Jul

Surprisingly Terrifying Thing #1

I would like to know why this even exists.

A few weeks ago I must’ve accidentally switched the ring tone for one of the alarms on my iPhone. I use it as my alarm clock in the mornings, and it generally wakes me with a few gently strummed guitar chords.

This morning, however, it was a harp. That might sound soothing, but when you’ve been up since 4:30 on a Saturday because you couldn’t sleep and you’re all sweaty and overheated from trying to squeeze in a three mile walk in record setting temperatures, trust me: hearing a loud harp coming from the general direction of your bedroom makes you think that either you’re on the brink of nervous collapse, or there’s a cat burglar with an angel obsession entering your condo.

Continue reading →

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I think my yoga instructor was Brittany Pierce.

3 Apr

Confession: I’m an avid follower of Glee. It’s not for the plots (though I have been impressed with they way they’ve woven gay acceptance into the storyline) and it’s not for the singing (not a big fan of Journey, thanks.).

What’s left? Well, Brittany, of course. If you don’t understand what’s compelling about her, I’ll save you some time: it’s her lines. She is the master of ditzy deadpan.

"I'm pretty sure my cat's been reading my diary."

So it makes me happy when life resembles celluloid and I run into someone who is Brittany-esque. Which is why my Saturday morning yoga class was pretty much awesome. I think my instructor was Brittany S. Pierce.

For starters, she was pretty bad at giving us clear directions, and I’m sure the newer students were scratching their heads through a lot of the sequences. But she called everything out with such exuberance and cheer that it was hard to get frustrated with her. She walked around grinning.

“You guys are doing awesome!” she encouraged us, right before telling us to, “Put your shoulder on your hip… um… I mean thigh!”

And there was definitely more than one, “Step forward with your left foot. I mean your OTHER left foot!”

It was like playing Twister with Gumby.

At some point, the sun came out and we heard her exclaim, “Oh look! The sun! Hi, Sun!”

While most yoga teachers use the sanskrit names for the poses (for example “chaturanga” is essentially a push-up), she didn’t even try. In fact, not only did she not use the sanskrit names, she didn’t use the standard English names either.

At one point she wanted us to lift into Virabhadrasana, known in English as Warrior Three. But instead of calling it either of those things, she said, “Now everybody do airplane!!” We all looked around at each other, confused. She beamed at us and said, “You know, AIRPLANE…” as she lifted up into this pose:

Image Source

But unlike every other yoga instructor I had, when she attempted this pose she couldn’t keep her balance. She immediately began wobbling around, and instead of the rest of us following her lead, we all just stood there and watched her as she toe-heeled her way around on her mat trying to keep from falling.

“Oh my gosh!” She exclaimed. “I drank coffee this morning and it’s totally affecting my balance! This is terrible!” Then, after a pause, “Oh wait. It’s not terrible. You’re never supposed to say something is terrible in yoga. But I don’t know what it is. It’s crazy!”

She finally wiped out, just as she finished her rant about coffee.

And then it was our turn to lift off into “airplane.” I think it’s the only time I’ve ever been smiling when I took flight.

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