Tammy,

I’m a little perplexed and a little embarrassed as I didn’t know how to handle a situation in class today.

As you have told us, yoga is non-competitive, even with one’s self. Recently you’ve noticed that I’ve been pretty close to the poses you have described and told us to get into. I’m even keeping up with the class as we go a little faster, or as the yoga world says flowing. I’m holding Warrior I and II poses longer than I used to.

Today, you found me in the plow pose, but everybody else was in the next pose, shoulder stand. I think I deserve a mulligan, a pass, or even a special compensation. How do I say this? You see, while doing the plow pose, somebody behind me must have been visualizing a mushroom farm because all of a sudden I heard a noise. Some people might say there was a little crop dusting going on. A short time later there was confirmation of what I heard the first time. Just when I was trying to refocus on what you were saying, a third, shall I say, explosion occurred. You caught me in the plow pose with my back on the ground, legs stretched over my head, and most importantly my knees in my face for, diplomatically, sensory, and olfactory protection. How could I explain this when you came by and asked why I was lagging behind the others?

At the beginning of class, you said that we are not supposed to expect anything. You have always told us not to be judgmental. I was dumbfounded. The auditory shock and fear of an oddly flavored draft arriving in my direction left me confused. What is one supposed to do?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Recently I went to Daytona Beach for a yoga class with someone who is renowned for being a great teacher, does world-class inversions, is really sweet, and likes to have fun and laugh.  She’s a lot like you.

I took I-95 to get there and found the yoga studio which was pretty close to, but not quite on, the beach.  The studio was right next to an Irish bar.

The class started with the routine warm-up poses.   The pose changes then came quicker and quicker.  I’m asthmatically challenged so intervals and fast aerobic activities are not my strong suit.  It soon came to me that “my colleagues” on the mat were teachers and veteran yoga practitioners.  Not a problem, I would do things at my own pace.  I soon drifted a few poses behind everybody else.  My heart was pounding out of my body and my shirt and mat were full of sweat.  Whoever says yoga makes you look great has obviously never tried yoga.   Anyway, the teacher then started going into some of the poses with our legs off the ground.  I tried a couple and then it got too complicated.  My brain recognizes the left from the right but converting that to my body and occasionally there’s an issue; add some inverted positions and my mind-body coordination inverts and then flatlines.  So I backed off and started watching  what the teacher was displaying and asking the students to try.  They did zoological animal poses that I didn’t know were even part of yoga:  scorpion, grasshopper, and side crow.  It looked so cool I should have been the class photographer.   All the while I was laughing.   What was so funny about all of this?  Was it that 50 other human beings could do things with their body that I was incapable of?   Was it the realization that the other participants would not appreciate me calling them “colleagues”?   Was it that yoga allowed me to constantly laugh at failure?  Whatever it was that day or in your classes, yoga is a big laugh (to me).  Who cares why I laugh?  I’m going back to your class for more!

Gary Kahn

P.S.  After class I went to the Irish bar hoping to hang with all of the other yogis and talk about the class; like people do with friends after you play softball or football.  Nobody else from the class showed up.  Perhaps there’s something else to I need to learn about the yoga world besides the poses.

Tammy,

At the request of one of your colleagues I went to her yoga class today.
She likes my energy and needed some teaching hours for a certification.

There was no child’s pose to start the class so I figured the young teacher forgot something.  Three minutes into the class I heard a pose called out:  crane, or maybe it was crow.  I thought, where do I put my arms and legs?  I looked at the woman next to me for a clue and she was balancing on her hands, with her legs in the air.  I once again remembered that yoga has different levels and I was way in over my basic head.

I was ready to quietly exit but my mat was nowhere near the door.  I decided to stick it out rather than take yoga’s version of the walk of shame.

Despite the teacher’s various pose commands, I frequently found myself in child’s pose.  I realized that child’s pose was for the physically incapable, the cerebrally challenged who could not figure out how to do a pose, and/or those frustrated with the whole deal.  Then I realized why yoga teachers wanted these “slow” students in the child’s pose; with your face in the ground they can’t hear you whining or crying.

I was sweating profusely over what could possibly be next.  I wiped my face and body with my white towel so much that it became discolored, thereby preventing me from using it as a surrender flag.

I am not writing from the hospital nor the grave, so do not worry.  I am simply reminded how happy I will be sharing sun salutations with you for a long time.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Today you taught us a new pose but I can’t remember the name.   Is there an aardvark pose?  I was a little confused; make that a lot.  In fact, I couldn’t figure out what to do even after watching you, nor looking at the people around me.  It was sweet how you gently came over to my mat and asked how I got into the ridiculous position I had created.  Eventually I realized that you helped me get into child’s pose so that other people wouldn’t imitate me.

Gary

Tammy,

How was your vacation?  I am sick again.

For the first time in a few days I left the house yesterday.  I went to the grocery store for some sickness supplies.  I walked through many aisles to the back of the store.  All of a sudden my hands were over my head and I stood up tall in Mountain pose.  This was followed by a swan dive after which I folded over into Uttanasana pose.  My girlfriend was shrieking and hiding.

Does this mean that through your classes I have become a yogi?  After all, I don’t do yoga at home.  Why did this urge come up when I was light headed in the refrigeration section of the grocery store?  Is yoga now part of my heart center?

Still in the refrigerated section of the store, I looked down at one of the shelves and found the cheeses and other cold stuff.  Lo and behold I also saw an Einstein Bagels bag.  Hmmm I thought: a bomb in a grocery store?  Let’s do some national security work and see what’s in the out-of-place bag.  I mean, why would a sack from a foreign food seller be found in this grocery store?  After much trepidation and careful maneuvering, a bagel was found inside the bag.  Now, I know sometimes people take an item from one part of the store and when they don’t want it, drop it off in another part of the same store.  This was clearly not the same store.  Perhaps somebody with Alzheimer’s disease forgot what store they were in.  Or maybe somebody else was more sick than yours truly and did a full yoga class in the store, but forgot to take their pre-bought-post-shavasana bagel with them.  Have you ever heard of yoga having this effect on people?

Unfortunately and perhaps needless to say, I won’t be in your class tonight and hopefully will do fully monitored vinyasas, mountain and other poses in your class soon.

Gary Kahn