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,

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

Tammy,

In class recently I saw that one of the other students has a mat with diagrams of the poses on it.  Do you think I should get one of these cheat-sheet mats?  I was thinking about looking over at the teenage girl’s mat during class to see the pictures.  Then I realized this may entitle me to jail-house yoga lessons.  Do you teach in the big house?  Something tells me the poses I may need to  perfect for that studio are Warrior I and Warrior II.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

I know something is different when I’m at the airport newsstand and I see the word Yogi on the front of Sports Illustrated.  I think to myself, what mainstream sport realizes that opening the hips may be good for player productivity?  Not so fast Raja.  The sports world isn’t openly that progressive.  It’s an article about former baseball player and word master Yogi Berra.

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,

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