Yoga makes me violent.
I know. I just proclaimed I’m a staunch pacifist. Few things tilt me to the boiling point. Yoga being one.
Fundamentally I appreciate yoga – the zen, the philosophy, the strength, the agility. Heck, my mom had me doing yoga long before Lululemon was all that. I vividly recall striking the tree pose while Mom crackled her “Free to be You and Me” soundtrack, playing the record over and over again to nausea. She was having an early mid-life crises.
for full effect, play this and tree pose
I hate yoga because of Mrs. Applebaum. She was my primary school librarian. I was perpetually in the doghouse during read-to-us hour. First of all, Mrs. Applebum, you royally bit at storytelling. That computer robot Marsha on my telephone banking has more passion saying “Press one for chequing” then you did for Pippi Longstocking. She had no pip. Just a lot of long. Mrs. Applebaum was like listening to a relaxation tape in a graveyard. I may have annoyingly shifted non-stop in my seat but at least I wasn’t lulled into a drooling coma like the rest of the class. Mrs. Applebaum the sucky-storyteller had the audacity to give me heck… using a condescending tone.
Yoga instructors use that very same tone.
Oh before you accuse me of being boxingcentric, be aware that every time I date someone new who religiously attends a yoga class, I try it again… just in case I was mistaken the other twenty times. I’ve given the college try to Lyengar, Bikram, Ashtanga and Hatha. I even tolerated a weekend retreat…. for one day. It is that tone.
Seriously thinking about it now, there are few more things that everyone could do that would help me finally find a love for yoga:
a) Do not wear yoga clothes as casual day outfits. Are you going to spontaneously downward dog while sipping your grande low fat no foam vanilla latte? Then wear regular people clothes. This is in particular a west coast issue. So shout out to Cali and Van – grow some fashion cajones.
b) Do not fart in class. Keep your inner peace all in your own insides. It really busts me out of my pose as I simply can’t help pointing and laughing at you. And you deserve it.
c) Be more logical. Are there really eight limbs in yoga? You might be able to freakishly wrap your feet behind your head but I still count two legs and two arms.
d) Yogi master guru dudes and dudettes add some zest and personality to your dialogue. Maybe keep it real and swear every once in a while. “Fuck this pose is going to be a bitch.”
e) Change the name to Yogi. I can’t hate a cartoon bear and his buddy Boo Boo. No one could. Could you?
this bad web series from Yoga Journal does not help takes forever to load
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How does yoga make you feel? Let me know below ↓
