Tammy,

I went to today’s yoga class with the intention of watching the teacher carefully so I could perfect my poses.  When we walked into the studio I looked for the spot right in front of the teacher.  Shucks, taken.  I placed my mat right behind an old guy.  I put my water bottle and towel in place near my mat and dropped my flip flops and keys off at the back of the studio.  I was ready to really learn.  Why was I so attached to getting the poses “right?” I don’t know.  Usually I just have fun and laugh about any weirdness I create.

Class started.  In mountain pose the teacher told us to lean back toward the rear window.  Next, we got into downward dog position.  I tried to look at the teacher’s every last detail.  The guy in front of me partially blocked my view of the teacher.  I tried to look around him but accidentally caught a view of his runner’s shorts.  They rode up his butt, exposing me to the pasty white part of his upper thighs.  I quickly looked to the ground and held the dog pose for a few seconds.  Meanwhile everybody else had already moved on to the next yoga position.  What will happen when we do headstands?  I don’t usually do the pose; instead I watch other students so I can see how to safely attempt the maneuver.  This guy’s junk might spelunk and I would be left with more than my eyes should see.  What do I do?  I’ve got to think quickly.  I’ve already seen more than I should.  How do I avoid the impending eye raping?  Doesn’t the teacher realize what’s going on?  Wait.  She could be trying to avoid her own visual assault.  I made the decision to lay down in savasana for the rest of the class, with my eyes closed of course.

I wonder if I went to the wrong yoga class.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

This is the one year anniversary of my blog.  I wonder what posts people have liked the best.

I guess yesterday was a good example of my yoga experience over the past year.  It was raining while I was driving to an outdoor yoga class and I was wondering why I was going.  I felt I would probably get sick and not be able to do yoga for a while.   I feared that my mat would become slippery and I would slip and fall and get injured.  When the class started the teacher immediately ran us through some sun salutations and warrior poses.  I felt drops of water on my mat and soon realized they were sweat, not rain drops.  The rain and everything else had evaporated from my mind except the pose we were doing.  Soon enough there was no rain from the sky.  The sun even came out.

As far as my progress in yoga, I show up every week.  I don’t do any homework.  Outside of  class, I don’t think much about yoga.   Is it possible I don’t really care much about yoga?  What’s the irony here?  I’m getting better at yoga.  I can now do the crow and full wheel poses.

Maybe I shouldn’t try or think about other things and they’ll get better.  Maybe I’ll start with relationships.  What do you think?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Yesterday I ventured out for park yoga. There was a raised cement platform in a public park where the class would take place.  It was a sunny, early morning, about 75 degrees with a slight breeze; glorious yoga weather.  I arrived five minutes before the class was scheduled to start. I scanned the area to figure out where to put my mat.  In the middle were a bunch of women with purple tops on. My eyes couldn’t move away from that area for a couple of seconds.  What’s going on?  Did I miss the dress code memo?

The session started and the pace was a little slower than the intermediate, rush-into-as-many-asanas-as-you-can-do-in-an-hour.  I was able to keep up without a problem.  In the middle we got into pigeon pose.  For some reason I was able to follow the instructions and successfully achieve the pose without teacher adjustment.  My hips hurt in exactly the right place and this pain made me happy.  Previously I thought happiness was supposed to make me feel good; what is yoga doing to my sense of life’s pleasures?  After class I saw that a bird painted part of my blue car white.  I guess he/she liked my impression of his/her species.  With my new yogic fondness for discomfort, am I supposed to like the artwork or should I have done a celebratory sun salutation?  Yogic karma evidently was present later on in the day when one of my teeth provided the worst pain I’ve ever felt.  Maybe if I do the bridge pose when the dentist does my root canal I’ll enjoy this new sensation.

I may have to practice yoga a long time before I buy into its pain philosophy.

Gary

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