I fucking hate hot yoga (Bikrams). I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!
Look at this guy in the photo. Is this a good testament for hot yoga? I don’t think so! Sure he’s skinny and bendy but really, do you want to be THAT skinny? Or even THAT bendy?
I hate all the people in hot yoga too. In their little short shorts or even bathing suits. With their hot little bodies looking all tanned and glistening.
Throughout the practice the instructor is forever saying nonesense like “don’t compare yourself to others” “don’t push too hard”. They don’t mean it. They want you to look at all those other people and wish you were them. They tell you that every pose has a progression and that even the masters have never found the end of that progression.
WTF? I’m NEVER going to be good at this? Ever? What? What’s the point?
I will admit that I have just finished a hot yoga class. Rumours abound that all the hip opening causes emotional upheaval in people. I don’t see it….well, maybe I’m a little big angry at hot yoga but I refuse to believe my irritation has anything to do with my tight hips. (30 years of running is not conducive to loose hips. Loose lips on the other hand….that’s a different post)
Yet, somewhere in the back of my type A mind, I feel that maybe hot yoga is better for you than regular yoga. It’s harder, you breath harder, your muscles stretch more, everything hurts afterwards…and for days.
Damnit! Now I’m making a case to actually do MORE Bikrams.
I’m not entirely sure that yoga that makes you angry is the way to go but maybe I’ll give it another chance. I don’t wanna look like this guy though. Promise me that won’t happen.
I’m fairly sure that this has happened to everyone at least once during their yoga practice.
You get yourself up in shoulder stand or down dog and…BAMB! one slips out.
How embarrassing! Memories of grade school sphincter indiscretions pop into your head and you lose focus of what post you’re supposed to in.
You quickly steal glances around the room to make sure no one else noticed and if you happen to catch someone’s knowing eye you die a thousand deaths.
Ah, the yoga fart is most definitely the scrouge of all yoga practicers.
Last night, during power yoga, I was especially gassy. I did my best to hold in those annoying little SBD’s but a few slipped past the blockade.
I think it’s the crazy positions you’re meant to do in yoga that cause this phenomenon. I’m not entirely sure we’re meant to be pulled and prodded and yanked into pretzel shapes. Maybe yoga farts are the universe’s way of telling us that this is just not good for you!
Or maybe I’m just looking for co-farters so that I don’t feel like the only one who has disturbed the zen of the room with a big, smelly toot.
More yoga today. Wonder what this practice will smell like?
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You have to wonder where all the om’ing started and I think I have the answer, I’m pretty sure that whales do yoga.
How do I know?
Well, while struggling through yoga today, I was rewarded with the mac daddy of yoga, the shavasanah. Ahhhh, I love this part, it’s my favourite. The corpse pose. I don’t even care that it has such a scary handle, I live for it.
You lie there dead, at the end of the practice. Everything feels really cool. it’s all tingly etc.
This new studio I’ve just joined (and paid for a month so I’ll actually go) has some pretty nice, modern ideas. The poses were different and kind of fun, when I wasn’t swearing at the instructor under my breath.
But during the shavasanah I had a relalation, no, an epiphany! I realized that whales are the original yogis! No joke.
Seriously, have you ever listened to the chanting stuff that they play at the end of yoga? That quasi-music that isn’t waves or birds but sounds a bit like humming. I think it might be monks chanting but it seems to vibrate right through the centre of your heart (that’s if you’re doing it right and not fighting your inner type A. Which I tried today)
I love this music stuff. Feels good. Feels like a mini vibrator on my chest. But guess what? It also sounds just like whales. You know that new age weird junk that people have cd’s of or special music players that help them fall asleep. Same sounds!
Now I’m convinced that whales have it all figured out. Ooooohhhhhhmmmmmm!!!!! (oops, probably shouldn’t have exclamation marks after that, it’s not very zen J
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Somewhere, at some time, some idiot thought that it would be cool to do 30 straight days of yoga. Clearly the person that thought of this was some sort of yoga freak who wanted to prove that it was something that everyone could do.
30 days is a long bloody time! It’s day 5 and my shoulders are killing me, my knees are swollen and my hips are screaming about all the “hip opening” exercises that are supposed to be good for me.
I’m here to tell you that it’s tough to be all zen when you’re in this much pain.
That said, I really love the new little yoga studio that just opened up in Tsawwassen. It’s small, has sparse decor and smells nice. I like it best during shavasena. But then again, I like everything during shavasena because that means that class is over and I can crawl out of the studio to live another day.
Why not quit? I could see how someone might ask this. I can’t quit. I am nothing if not goal-oriented. Set me a goal and there will be very little that could stop me from achieving it. I have found, in the past, that allowing yourself to cheat or ditch your goals only makes you feel really bad. To be honest, I can’t quit because of the massive guilt I would feel.
So I will trudge back tomorrow to re-visit down dog and all his pals. I will stand in tree til the sweat runs down my face from the effort of keeping my hands over my head. I will open my hips, squeeze my butt, sink my sit bones and clear my mind.
Then I’ll come here and bitch about the agony of yoga. Seriously, 30 days of yoga? What was I thinking?!