Tammy,

Today was kind of interesting at your yoga class.  As you are aware, there were enough teachers in training that pretty much each one of us students had their own.  After a while I noticed that these young, soon-to-be gurus, could have some fun of their own, at my expense.  During shoulder stand my personal teacher put her foot in my rear end.  I don’t know whether she was trying to adjust me or punish me; all the while she was smiling.  I didn’t know how to diplomatically inquire about this after class.  Should I have asked:  “What is the Sanskrit word for the old foot in the tush pose?”  Or:  “Were you just telling me I’m your bitch?”

Gary Kahn

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,

I woke up this morning with a lot on my mind; the week, the obligations, the Kardashians:> NOT.

I went to the local yoga store to take your class.  At last, I realized that you had not banished me from taking your classes.  In fact, you graciously welcomed me and asked how I had been.

There were a lot of people.  The woman next to me gave me grief because I have a bigger mat than most and she claimed that I was in her space.  I was thinking:  “give me a break.  Look at all the makeup you put on for a yoga class.  Who are you trying to impress?”   Oh yeah, I had lot’s of charitable kharma this morning.

You started the class and my mind focused on the poses, stillness, and skittles.  Yeah, all the different colored mats made me think of the chewy candy.  My mind said chew on yoga and get back to why we’re here.

Eventually I focused on the poses and felt the glory of the pain during frog pose.  I was ok; it just let me know I’m alive.  As we closed with the meditation, my mind was finally relaxed and I had become more accepting of myself and others.   I even saw the beauty in the woman next to me; she was sweating so much her mat looked like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

I went to a Halloween party.

There were a few new topical costumes.  Osama Bin Laden was there and that of course brought the Navy Seals (though some of these guys must have been on a 2 week pass as they had quite the stomachs).  Justin Bieber was the favorite for men in their 30’s as they hoped to score with much younger girls.  Amy Winehouse look-alikes seemed to be accompanied by the return of the Kurt Cobain guys.

As I walked around the main room of the party, I saw something in the corner.  It was dark, with blood-red splotches, and looked like a large, strewn out, rag doll.  Immediately I thought of a gruesome opening crime scene from Law & Order:  Special Victims Unit.   I went over to the thing and heard what sounded like loud, troubled, breathing.  Then I heard the words, half dragonfly.  My brain said ‘what’s that?’  The person’s head popped up and I noticed a scarring on the forehead and fake blood oozing out of the neck and cheek.  Finally the woman said, “I’m a yoga teacher and the pose is half dragonfly.”  I didn’t know what pose she was talking about.  She said, “Please, either get down and do what I’m doing or let me practice in peace.”  I decided to try it.  Without warming up I was tight but felt stretched out.  We stayed like this for a while.  We were moving to do the other side of the body when I noticed lots of people had suddenly crowded around us wondering what was going on.  Maybe they expected some sort of Caligula show.  I got freaked.  I quickly thanked the ghoulish yoga teacher and exited; leaving my pride and strange party activity on the floor.  Is there any possibility the people with camera phones at the party don’t know how to upload anything to Facebook, YouTube, or Twitter?

Tammy,

You’ll remember my shame caused a self-induced banishment from your classes (see previous email [post]).  Today I had a nice 15 minute time frame which you once told me would be great for starting a home yoga practice.

I brought out a mat.  Then I asked myself, ok, so how much am I going to charge myself for lessons?  I need a business plan.  Let’s see:  I have no training as a yoga teacher, I have never been to an ashram in India, and I barely know any Sanskrit.  I thought about these issues for a few minutes.  I decided to let it go and the answers would come to me when I am relaxed.   Which area of the house is the best for yoga practice?  Do I want a room with or without light?  Shivasana is great with no light but how would I do the sun salutations?  Ok, half moon pose will be my go to pose.   I thought about a mirror but then I wouldn’t be feeling the pose and I wouldn’t be in the moment.   My bell started to ring signaling that my session was over.   Gotta head to Starbucks for a soothing latte.  Home yoga is way more stressful than your studio classes.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Recently I had a party at my house.  I invited you, my yoga teacher, because you are nice and I thought you would have fun.

After you arrived and grabbed a drink, you looked around the house.  You then looked me in the eye and said, “Gary, where do you practice yoga?”

The bubble above my head started racing:  do I tell her that I roll out my mat and practice in the tv room or perhaps the living room?  Would she believe the garage?  How about telling her that I practice in my head?  What exactly does that even mean?

I noticed sweat starting to pour profusely from my body; kind of like when I am in your class.  I didn’t have a drink yet but I could sure use something to alter my state of mind.  Scottie, can you beam me up?

Why couldn’t your boyfriend say something or pull you away so the two of you could be alone someplace?

Wait.  Why was I so worried about what you think?  Why do I feel the need to impress you?  Oh, simply because you may not think I am in any way serious about yoga and that it is a joke to me.  After all I do laugh in your class, especially at times when nobody else finds anything funny.  With this one question I may have planted the weirdo, stalker, or other whacked moniker in your mind.

Lo and behold what did I come up with?
“Tammy, you see all of my practice (at the studio).”  [the truth]

With that comment you immediately asked for directions to the powder room and disappeared.  At that point, I had a strong sense that I would now be banished from your yoga classes.

Alas, shame has caused my only practice to begin at home in solitude.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

In class you instructed us to do a variation of uttanasana.  We leaned over and hugged our bended knees.  I felt wobbly and visualized that I was a Norwegian long jump skier preparing for a run at an Olympic gold medal.  Fortunately I had been training my whole life for this moment.  NOT!  I never even tried this sport before.  What do the announcers always say?  Bendze knees, arms back, and start believing in the afterlife?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Today I went to a yoga class at a different school (yoga studio) with another teacher.  I’m not cutting class or skipping school, just trying another.  I’m actually trying to do yoga better.  Seriously, Groupon had some insane deal at another studio with unlimited classes for a month.

Hmmmm, it’s not the same.  What am I missing?  Are we doing the same downward dog and cobra poses?  Yes.  Am I cheating on you, my yoga teacher, by going to another teacher?  Well, this new teacher doesn’t laugh at me like you do when I have no clue what my arms and legs are supposed to be doing.  In fact, she hardly ever comes over and adjusts my alignment.  Perhaps she saw a needy note tattooed on my forehead when I walked in the class and she decided to stay away.  Why does this substitute teacher not find the humor and dreaminess in yoga like you do?  What does she think I am?  A physically challenged beginner?  Maybe I brought the wrong color mat today.

What was the teacher’s deal? Any chance I should be glad she has tolerance and didn’t put me in a yoga pretzel timeout.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

You may recall that in yoga class today we were doing the pose called Warrior I.  You came over to make sure my hips were straight forward.  Before yoga I didn’t even know I had hips.  Women’s measurements always have a hip number.  Nobody’s ever measured my hips and there aren’t any guy jeans called hip huggers.

Anyway, you were standing behind me trying to push my hips straight ahead.  You were able to achieve moving these newly found body parts, despite some unintentional resistance.  Now, I thought this team of teacher and student solidly had the pose.  But, you continued to hold me.  At first this was cool because I was perfectly aligned for the pose.  In yoga you are apparently not supposed to worry about being perfect or right or wrong; something about being in the moment.   As time went on, however, I felt like my leg was going to crumble and that I would fall over at any moment.  As the tremors were running through my leg, I was hoping like heck that somebody near me was a newbie, or anybody was doing something totally out of whack, so that you would have to help them.  Please!   Please!   Please!  Normally I am thrilled to have you, the yoga teacher, help me because that’s how one improves.  Well, as I was about to scream “Uncle” or “Kelly Clarkson” (a la 40 Year Old Virgin) and keel over, simultaneously losing all of my masculine chromosomes, you went to another person.  The second I was out of your sight line, I crumbled to the mat in defeat.  You didn’t see my putrid display and therefore I am, well, I can’t exactly say proud, but I am still allowed to use the men’s locker room.

I might say that if yoga wants to get more male participation, a name change might be in order.

Gary Kahn