Tammy,

Last week I met this woman at a public speaking class.  She was telling me she met a small business management consultant.  She rattled on, “This businesswoman really took the time to get to know me.  She cares about me and I’m in my 50’s.  With all the age and sexual discrimination that goes on I’m thrilled to have her believe in me.”  I didn’t understand why she was spilling her guts to me.  I’m not her best friend, a shrink, nor even such a consoling stranger (she forgot to brush her hair and revealed to me that she had just been tried and convicted for driving under the influence).  She pushed the consultant’s card into my hand.  The teacher marched in and started speaking so I put the card in my pocket.

When I went to bed that night I emptied my pockets and was throwing out the business card when I noticed something.  I put the card up to the light and saw the white outline of two humans pointed toward each other.  They had sort of folded themselves over, slumped in half.  I couldn’t figure it out.  What were they doing?  This is not some athletic trainer’s card, not that of a prayer group, nor even an s & m club card.  I came back an hour later and realized one leg was behind each person, the elbows were on the ground and the head was almost floor level too.  Hey!  That’s the yoga “pigeon pose.”

Since the average business person would not figure this card out, I wondered if this was a signal.  Maybe this symbol was a covert code for an undercover CIA operation.  This is how they recruit, right?  Not!  Obviously I’ve been watching too much Homeland lately.  More than likely this was a female pimp of some sort secretly inviting me into a strange men’s club.  They must figure if you recognize a sophisticated pose from a traditional women’s activity, you are probably into some funky stuff.  That’s not for me, not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Needless to say, I don’t think I’m going back to that public speaking class again.  What do I do that makes me look like such a mark?

Gary

Tammy,

Tropical Storm Sandy, who changed her name to Frankenstorm for Halloween, left the South Florida coast somewhat submerged so yesterday’s beach yoga class was washed away.

Beach yoga classes are important to my psyche.  After a long week, I, like most, look forward to doing fun stuff during the weekend.  When friends won’t call me back about our plans (maybe I call them friends but they probably call me “nothing-else-to-do guy”), the Monday-through-Friday stuff has me so exhausted I nearly sleep away the weekend, or when it’s a must-do-laundry weekend, I hanker for beach yoga.  Beach yoga is weekend salvation.  I love the thick, cottony clouds mixed in with the warm, orange and pink colors of the sunset.  My entire body feels like nothing matters as the hypnotizing sounds of the waves rush in and out.  The rocks that bookend our beach “studio” inspire dreams of being in a vacation fortress.  Did I mention that at beach yoga I can do full wheel pose?  On the beach, the sand is forgiving so I can even do crow pose.  Indoor yoga forces me to wear a helmet for crow attempts; surely that’s not how I like to style in yoga class.  On the sandy shores I successfully flip the dog, well, most of the time.  But if I were you, I wouldn’t get anywhere near my oddly raised canine leg.

Somehow at beach yoga I even seem to overlook a couple of, shall we say, peeves.  Like the senior citizen who runs through our class every week and hits on our young teacher in broken English.  Did I mention that his shorts are barely bigger than a speedo?  How about the drunk dude who walked by our class and insisted he could do the inverted poses?  I thought it might be funny but the resulting sloppiness almost made him toss some pretty, pretty nasty cookies.

With the clocks rolling back an hour next week, I fear my last beach yoga class of 2012 was cancelled.

Gary

Tammy,

I was at a yoga class this week.  We were doing a pose which involves a lot of stretching and produces a lot of stress; well, at least in my mind.  I heard a noise that was louder than a yogi’s normal ujjayi breathing.  It was more powerful than an asthmatic dying from a wheezing attack.  It was like somebody was snoring really, really loudly; in fact, it sounded like a wildebeest was roaming around the room.  I was skeeved and my skin started to crawl.  What’s going on?  What’s the matter with this thing?  Wait a second.  Nobody brought their animal to class today.  Could a person actually sound this way?  I hope he has it checked out; if not, the next thing you know everybody will start making the loudest and strangest noises.  The type A personalities will battle to have the best yoga noise and they will be put on Yoga Journal’s website.  If the hideous noise is stopped now, an epidemic similar to the grunting in tennis will be narrowly averted.

I’m entitled to a pristine class, without revolting noises.  Isn’t that a promise in the brochure of every yoga studio?  After all, how can I practice my focus if there is something distracting me?

Gary

Tammy,

The other day I went to yoga at a gym.  After class started the teacher said that later on we would be going to the bar.  “Cool,” I thought.  The class and teacher would chat and get to know each other.  That would build the yoga community.  This was the first class I ever had with this teacher and I was pretty psyched.  No other yoga teacher of mine had ever encouraged a class of students to go for a brew after class.

We did the usual sun salutations and started to get into some more sophisticated poses.  I was getting sweaty.  I like this as it means I’m getting a workout.

The end of class was approaching and the teacher told us to go to the back of the room.  She told us to raise one leg and put it on a wooden beam that extended six inches from the wall and ran the entire width of the wall.  “This,” she announced “is  the bar.”  What?  What about the post-class coldness to relax muscles?  Uh, not after this yoga class.

Apparently the upper levels of yoga involve a ballet bar.  Ballet!  Ballet!   I’ve looked at an issue or two of Yoga Journal and I don’t remember seeing anything about ballet.  What’s going on?  Did I just spend almost two years getting into something that would end up with me wearing slippers with tassles on them?  Would I be expected to wear tutus and pink tops?  What kind of Crying Game is yoga?  Maybe I should do some research before I start something new.  I think I’m going to the bar and figure out what to do with all of the free time I will now have.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

I’m thinking that maybe I should take a yoga name.  What do you think of these?

From the bhujangasana pose I was thinking of the nickname bhuj.  It’s fun, different, cool, and people will remember something about me.

From the paschimottanasana pose I could call myself Paschi.  It rhymes with Kashi so maybe I can get sponsored by the cereal company.  People could even call me Pasch, but be aware that the spelling clearly indicates I am not related to Spice Girl Posh.

From the vashistasana pose, I could be called Vash.  I laugh a lot in yoga class and the French phrase la vache qui rit means laughing cow.  In Fact, that phrase is synonymous with a French cheese so maybe they can sponsor me.

What do you think?   Should I be cool or make some money while practicing yoga?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

I know yogis are not supposed to hate on anything but there are a few poses I find less than desirable.

First there is half standing forward bend.  I bet I look like the hunchback of Notre Dame when doing this pose.  I don’t think any teacher has corrected this pose of mine because they think I might have leprosy and be contagious.

Full Boat pose is another undesirable.  I feel as if I am having Parkinson shakes when in this position and that I’m doing permanent damage to my back.

Dragonfly is not a fave either.  Most women in yoga classes ace this pose and can put their elbows on the ground.  Me, I can’t get my torso to lean forward at all.  I feel like a wax statue waiting to be sent to a taxidermist with my torso leaning backwards.

Do you have any poses not on your preferred list?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

I thought I’d let you know which are my favorite yoga poses, even though I am not an expert at any of them.

First there is the rarely done frog pose.  With legs out wide you feel helpless and get the feeling you taste like chicken.

Pigeon pose produces a pain like no other in the it bands.  That fits with me as some say I am happy being miserable.

How about flipping the dog?  I can’t visually figure it out, don’t know the Sanskrit name for it, nor have I ever seen a real canine behave like this.   Well,  there’s go yoga getting hypocritical.

What are your favorite poses to teach and for you to practice?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

While waiting for yoga class the other day, I did a little yogic thinking.  I guess these emails suggest I might do that once in a while.  When yoga teachers say that it is my class, I figure that means I focus on me and do the best I can; stopping only if I have trouble with a pose.  On this day, I did something uncharacteristic and intentionally watched the others.  No, I’m not a perv, just curious.   I never knew how much other students disregard the professional yoga teacher’s instructions and do whatever they want.   What’s up with that?  I noticed a woman doing savasana the whole class.  Why get out of bed for an early morning yoga class to just lay on the ground when you could have been snoozing away in a comfy bed?  Then I saw the little duckling pose.  That’s where the mother brings two daughters below ten years old and they try to imitate their mom; in other words, a yoga class of three.  It was cute, especially when the girls couldn’t keep up with the flow and didn’t get totally frustrated.  With more yoga practice, one day all the ducks will be in a row and will be joining the rest of us.  How about the muscle dude in the front row?  When we flowed, instead of upward dog, he did a headstand.  I was shocked when I first saw it and thought maybe that was how advanced yogis do the pose.  Then I realized he was just trying to impress the hot woman next to him.

I know it’s their yoga, but how do you teach your yoga when so many people are freestyling?

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Saturday morning I took an outdoor yoga class.  I placed my mat down before class and immediately went into my routine pre-class corpse, or savasana, pose.  I try to establish my goal of being non-judgmental for the class.  When I looked up to see if class was starting I noticed a little girl on a mat near mine.  She was wearing little turquoise blue shorts, a yellow t shirt, and her hair was pulled up.  She was sporting a nice Boca tan as was her mom who was on the other side of this little four year old.

When the class started I noticed the little yogi trying the poses.  Her torso touched the ground during downward dog thereby missing the v shape called for in the pose.  When we went from plank, to chaturanga, to upward dog, to downward dog, she did her own little jumping routine which she altered each time we went through the sequence.  She smiled and was full of energy despite the fact that she didn’t conform to everyone around her.  Eventually she left the area and ran around the rest of the park with her mom in tow; somebody was in the moment and somebody else was in the running fear pose.  I tried to refrain myself but couldn’t help laughing.

Not being judgmental here but I think the kid deserves an A for the class.  After all, she walked away without a worry about what she looked like and was thrilled to see the sights.  I’m not big on the all-about-me attitude but it may have its place.

Gary Kahn

Tammy,

Saturday I went to a rock & roll yoga class.

At the beginning of class I heard Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ over the speaker system, except something was different.  Usually my mind thinks exclusively of the hot, skateboarding woman in the video.  This time I was actually listening to the lyrics and for the first time I figured out what the song is about.  Thanks John Mayer.

Toward the end of the class the teacher told us to squat on the ground.  We then raised our bottoms, bent over, and tried to put our inner thighs on the back of our upper arms, crow style.  I had trouble getting into the pose, so the teacher said to look forward.  I took a leap of faith and for a brief second I was flying; that’s the word yogis use, right?  Well, then my body flew forward and my head went clunk against the ground.  Hmm, I was thinking, was I body checked?  No.  Was I punched?  No.  I’m doing yoga.  I was a little woozy when I heard the song playing at that moment, Pink Floyd’s Shine on You Crazy Diamond.  My brain rattled around and I couldn’t even figure out what symbolism was.

I guess when I heard Jack Johnson’s Upside Down early in class I should have realized that things were going to be mind altering.

Gary Kahn

PS  Something else happened in class.  At one point, the teacher told us to unclench our butts.  What was that all about?  All I could think of were the lines from Predator 2:  “Okay everybody, just take a deep breath.  Loosen your sphincters.”