Tag Archives: Yoga

Club Sandwiches? Yes. Club Thumbs? No thanks.

29 May

Something I’m thankful for:

Not having clubbed thumbs.

I know, it’s petty. But this morning in yoga, the woman next to me had clubbed thumbs and although (presumably) she’s had 40+ years to adjust to them, she definitely took pains to keep them hidden as much as possible throughout her practice. When our hands were extended toward the ceiling, she would bend her thumb and hide it behind her other four fingers.

And no, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t doing that because she could feel my curious eyes burning holes in them. I was discreet.

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A day in my life, in Jeopardy format.

27 Apr

I’m too tired to write a fully-formed post. So instead, I’m going to share three of the random thoughts that have gone through my head in the past 24 hours. I’ll supply the thought first and the trigger second, in an attempt to drive Alec Trebek wild with enthusiasm.

Here goes…

Thought #1: “Well, I might be aging but you are too and at least I’m doing it with a roof over my head. Wait. I’m moving. Maybe I will be fired or won’t be able to afford my new mortgage and I’ll end up homeless. In which case this was not only a mean thought, but an ironic one. I want to take it back! I’m an evil, awful person for thinking that!”

Trigger #1: What is the one response to a homeless man, shouting, “Damn Sugar. Ain’t getting any younger!” at me today?

Thought #2: “I really need to find a new pool.”

Trigger #2: What is the appropriate reaction to finding a dirty (by which I mean USED) and water-logged tampon sitting on top of the soap dispenser in a shower stall at my pool? Enough said. (Vomit.)

Thought #3: “Is it my mat or the blanket that smells like fish?”

Trigger #3: What is a yogic mystery? Somehow I managed to choose a blanket at yoga tonight that smelled like it was washed with clam juice. Every time I did a downward-facing dog, I found myself pulling a few extra, curious drags of air to diagnose the odor. Halfway through class, I pinpointed the blanket, traded it for another and the problem was solved. Oddly, I was not craving clams casino when I left class.

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A Letter: to the woman next to me in yoga today…

19 Apr

Dear Lady:

(And I use the word “lady” loosely for reasons that will soon become evident.)

If you decide to hit a yoga class, how about you show up on time? Because the idea is to get relaxed and centered. And none of that is possible if a woman who is shaped like Sponge Bob comes to class ten minutes late, walking as if she has bricks strapped to her feet, and then proceeds to roll out her mat RIGHT NEXT TO ME, as if there’s not 200 sf of other real estate available in the room.

Further, if you ARE going to show up late (thereby calling attention to yourself and interrupting the channeling of my loving kindness) to nestle in close to me, then please, for the love of God and small puppies, SHAVE YOUR LEGS. Because the last thing I need to see, when I’m in a supine twist (my legs going one way and my head aimed in your direction) is a Hobbit-like leg, three inches from my face. It makes me want to find a grill lighter and start singeing your shin. Not very zen of me, but neither is your hairy drumstick.

I know, I should be all “I love Earth Mothers” and that – especially since I’m into yoga. But come on. If I can find the time to shave my legs (which are SIGNIFICANTLY less hairy than yours), you should be able to find the time to either a) shave, or b) don a pair of long pants so I don’t have to throw-up in my mouth repeatedly while trying to practice ujjai breathing.

Speaking of ujjai breathing – did you hear the song that was playing when you arrived? I think it was supposed to be “ujjai” that they were chanting, but by the time they mixed in the beats and repeated it quickly, it just sounded like “vaginavaginavagina” to me. Did you think so too? If you agree, I might be willing to cut you a pass on the hairy legs for one more session. I just want to know I wasn’t going crazy there on my mat.

Anyway. I’m sure you’ll be more punctual (and better groomed) next time. (See how yoga makes me more positive?)

Namaste,

Alison

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Because massage is an Olympic sport

15 Feb

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, last night Alan and I attended a 2.5 hour Thai massage workshop offered by an instructor at my yoga studio. We both like to rub and be rubbed, so I thought it sounded fun.

The vibe was a bit like what I suspect one experiences at a Lamaze class – couples huddled together on blankets with men exhibiting varying levels of interest and embarrassment. Almost immediately, one couple stood out.

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Third eye blind?

2 Feb

I promise, this won’t become a blog about yoga. I’m more than one-dimensional, even if I’m not acting like it.

That said, this post is about a random thought that occurred to me during yoga tonight.

We very often are instructed to “connect our hands in prayer in front of our hearts” with our eyes closed. Cool. That’s self-explanatory.

Tonight, my instructor Ximena – a name that I swear I didn’t know how to properly pronounce until I heard her say it in class three months ago – gave slightly different instructions. What she said made me want to crack my eyes a slit and see if we had any new male yogis in the room. She said:

Join your hands in prayer.

Now place them in front of your Third Eye.

Am I the only person who finds it plausible that a new student might – just MIGHT – drop his hands instead of raise them? I’m just wondering.

And yes, this is where my mind goes when I am supposed to be sending loving kindness to the world. I can only hope that karma turns a blind eye.

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