Tammy,

So I arrive in your class one day.  There is a guy there and I hear him happy that another guy (me) will be in the class.  I don’t think about it much.  Then the guy rattles off a whole bunch of maladies and how he is affected by them.  I quickly decide that I will place my mat as far from him as possible.  After a class wherein you had us try a bunch of different poses, in what seemed like slow motion, I heard the guy complaining about his maladies even more now that the class was over.

I definitely avoided the guy on the way out.  I found myself thinking this guy was tremendously annoying.  Fortunately these thoughts did not come up during class.  He made it clear he was into women, so why was he happy when the room became more filled with testosterone?   Wouldn’t his odds with women be greater if there was less competition?  I don’t know what this guy was all about.  Why did he brag about his aches and pains?  Would the women be impressed by that?  Maybe I am out of touch with picking up women as I’m in a relationship, but I still think they like masculine guys that appear to have their act together.  I don’t know.  Are women attracted to insecurity these days?  Are they into skinny guys who can’t fix anything or maybe they fancy guys who cower late at night when there’s a strange noise outside your house?

Maybe my real question is:  should I care about this dude and/or let him bother me?  After all, in class I don’t think about him.  I am judging the malingerer, right?  In yoga the aim appears to be void yourself of judgment.  Does yoga promote helping a fellow man or letting him/her be?  I’m probably not properly qualified to help the guy but I could tell him that women are more than likely rarely ever turned on by his verbal self-mutilation.  As a teacher, do you try to loosen him up and tell him to take it easy or let him be and hope he figures things out?

Did you say this yoga thing is supposed to be relaxing and freeing of the mind?

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 think I know why I go to your yoga class.

Your classes remind me of being in preschool.

We arrive with our own blankets, or in yoga terms, a mat. You greet us with a warm smile and some encouraging words.   We know that you will take care of us.

You then ask us to get down onto our mats for child’s pose.
Immediately my mind harkens back to the warm blankets I had in preschool when I was 4 years old.  I start to believe my mat is actually a magic carpet and that it will take me away into dream land.  In fact, you instruct us to do ujjayi breathing (some sort of back-of-the throat yoga breathing) and we are supposed to sound a little like Darth Vader.  Wow, I am supposed to be a character in Star Wars.

Actually I’m on an adult journey and I don’t know it.

You then ask us to put our bodies into various postures or poses; downward dog, upward dog, cobra, cat tilt, triangle pose, warrior I, etc.  You even come around to each one of us to make sure we are doing things right; in the parlance of yoga, you adjust us.

As we are moving our bodies, you tell us not to judge ourselves and that everybody is okay, exactly as they are.  We don’t need to look at our neighbors because everybody is different.  This is what we learned at the wee young age.

You gauge the class and see how well we are adapting to this new language; kind of like in preschool when we are being taught to tie shoes or beginning to read.  Little do we know that besides the opening up of our hip joints, you are opening up our minds to patience, to forgiveness, and to be in the present.  Of course you are teaching us lessons on how to be good people and succeed without us even knowing it.

As we go into pigeon pose you tell us that the feeling in our hips is good for us.  In the most sweetest of ways you tell us that this feeling is just an unused body part saying hello.  The more we visit again, the more friendly the feeling will be.  You whisper to us that if we practice every day, the pigeon will be a great friend and we will have lots of fun together.  Sounds like practice makes things easier to me, and even a lesson from Sun Tzu (keep your friends close and your enemies closer).  Also, if the pigeon is befriended, his/her kind may never make droppings on our heads.

After we’ve extended and contorted the body and stimulated the cortex, it is time for shavasana.  You smoothly say we should take this time to float into space.  Sounds to me like lay down on our mats, I mean carpets, and go to sleep.  You even come around and massage each one of our little heads.  The only thing missing is the milk and cookies.

We then hear a bell signaling the end.  Our last remnants of innocence is ending. You say Namaste, release us into the big bad world and tell us we’re on our own for life’s real problems.

Gary Kahn