YOGI FAILINGS- December 11, 2009
I’m pretty good at yoga, the physical part, but horrible at the mental part, which is where yoga can make important changes in your life. I had not been to yoga in about a month because I decided to branch out from my Brooklyn yoga studio- Mala Yoga – and try a yoga studio in Manhattan. In the Manhattan studio I went to , when you check in they give you a number and then you go in the yoga studio and find your number on the floor and that is your spot. I found my spot and there was someone on my number. I explained to her that she was on my number and she told me I could take her number because she wanted to be next to her friend. I stood there for a second because I wanted to have the spot I was assigned to and I was much bigger than the spot stealer and her friend but I knew better than to make a scene about a number on the floor. I was wondering if the spot stealer’s friend even wanted that type of company, the type of company that breaks the rules at the yoga studio. I found my new number only to find someone on that number too. She said she always has spot eleven and I must have the information wrong. I started to go back to the friends to confirm I was in fact looking for the correct number but the whole thing seemed tiring and silly. Instead I went back to the front desk and asked for my money back. They made me explain my childish reason for leaving and offered to intervene and help get my spot back but I had a feeling people were already wondering who the new girl is wandering around telling people they are on her number, so I decided to leave gracefully.
I returned to my neighborhood yoga studio this week and I spent my 90 minute yoga class internally debating whether I should get a salad or chicken tikka masala for dinner. I ended up getting both. It cost me $39 dollars to leave my apartment for two hours.
My only complaint is there are often “partner” exercises in yoga. The teacher tells you to find a “partner” to practice some yoga poses that require you to touch and sometimes, put body weight on, your new “ partner”. I think they should be called “stranger” exercises. Let’s call a spade a spade. Not only that, I think they should tell you in advance whether you will be expected to work with others because yoga is typically an independent experience. I’m pretty particular about whose lower back and hamstrings I touch. Especially when there is limited clothing and sweat involved.
I do believe there should be some rules in yoga. For instance, one should not be allowed to participate in yoga class when wearing shorts and only shorts. It’s ridiculous. And it’s a distraction. It’s hard enough to stay focused without the commotion of an eighty percent naked man doing downward dog. OK. I get it. You have a nice body, whoopee ding dong. I’ve never seen anyone hook up in a yoga class. A t shirt is not much of an encumbrance. Cover up.
Chanting should be monitored. The beginning of class usually consists of chanting three ohm’s. One guy always says “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” instead of “oooooooooooooooooooooooohhm”. I mean ALWAYS. And not once has he been reprimanded. It’s not fair. I don’t particularly like “ohm” either. I would prefer a little staccato but guess what? I am not the founder of yoga chants. I know my place and I know how the chant goes. It’s not difficult. It’s the same sound every time. I saw that guy on the street and he said “ Hi!”. I wanted to say “don’t you mean Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?”.
But I like yoga. I do.
Thanks for listening!
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.