Saturday, July 12, 2014

Don't Even Think About Leaving Yoga Early . . . Unless You're On a Gurney

There's only one easy way out of this hell and that, my friends, is on a gurney.

Otherwise, you're here for the duration. 90 minutes. And, yes, it will feel more like 5 hours.

The studio is set to a comfortable 90 degrees. Stop rolling your eyes. (It's good for your muscles in the same way that wandering around Nogales, Mexico in 110 degree heat, fending off marriage proposals from shifty men was good for your character).


Did you ever think of balancing your entire body on the palms of your hands and the backs of your arms? Well, do it! NOW.

It doesn't matter that you're losing more electrolytes than you did during childbirth or that you're wishing you had an epidural right about now. This class is for only the most magnificent versions of yourselves. Not for the wimpiest, whiniest versions. (Have them train for a marathon instead).

I can see it in your eyes that you're thinking about leaving class early. That is fear taking over. Are you really going to let fear guide you today? Let it go!

You are NOT leaving early. Don't blame it on the kids, work, low iron, what have you. Your bladder is fine. You can throw up if you want. Rub some Tiger Balm on your muscles and get back on your mat.
You're not leaving this class early. Unless you're on a gurney.


It doesn't matter that today's your first time on your yoga mat.
I don't care if you haven't done yoga in 7 years. Or if you're a man whose wife dragged you here because she thought it would be cute to see you struggle in "tree pose."
Call this an exorcism, fine.
You will be here for the duration of the class.
Until the very last downward f-ing dog.


Don't try to hid in "child's pose" for 20 minutes either. I can still see you over there. I'll sprinkle smelling salts on your yoga mat if need be.

And - just a suggestion - maybe you shouldn't stand next to the wall of candles since your balance is that of a toddler learning to walk. Stop laughing when you fall over or hover perilously close to the butt of the student in front of you. We are adults here. No laughing.


Turn off that noise in your head. You're doing fine. Yes, you're sweating like a nomad in the Sahara, but that's the point. Oh, look at you, you're finally out of "child's pose" and you're attempting a "half-bind." This is your day. Well, that bind was good for a second. Stop letting fear control you and don't even think about leaving this class early. Or I'll kill you.


I see you're not even contemplating an "inversion" or "bridge." Just lay there, fine, whatever. INHALE. EXHALE. I don't care if I have to scrape you off that mat. If we need a gurney, OK. It won't be the first - or last - time.

Breathe in the incense, soak in the dim lights, music, the sound of your heartbeat. Is your heart still beating? Oh, good! You've earned it. Sort of. You may not be the most magnificent version of yourself. But, you're getting there.

Namaste. (I honor the place within you, which is of Love, of Truth, of Light and of Peace).