I want to be. In my mind I am a spiritually-centered clean living, folk guitar playing, PCT hiking hippie.
In reality ... I'm more of a Cheetos-eater. Indoors with excellent AC. Preferably on the couch watching something on television I'd be mildly embarrassed to admit to in public.
Exihibit A? Me during yoga class. Obsessing over every little thing ... except my actual yoga form.
It starts slowly. I need a pedicure I think to myself. Then I notice my yoga mat. It's really kind of gross. Does it smell? Is that my feet? Or is that man-bun's feet next to me? He's really into that lion's breath thing. Boy is he ever L-O-U-D. I guess that's the point. Does anyone notice that I'm not actually making a sound when I do it? It's kind of like when I just mouth the words to the hymn I don't know at church.
And that's when the songs start. Sometimes something good, but often it's music from children's television shows. Specifically, Yo Gabba Gabba. This typically continues until I realize I am the only one in class still in downward dog.
It starts slowly. I need a pedicure I think to myself. Then I notice my yoga mat. It's really kind of gross. Does it smell? Is that my feet? Or is that man-bun's feet next to me? He's really into that lion's breath thing. Boy is he ever L-O-U-D. I guess that's the point. Does anyone notice that I'm not actually making a sound when I do it? It's kind of like when I just mouth the words to the hymn I don't know at church.
And that's when the songs start. Sometimes something good, but often it's music from children's television shows. Specifically, Yo Gabba Gabba. This typically continues until I realize I am the only one in class still in downward dog.
That's when I get serious and try to follow the yoga progression, but I'm really just watching the minutes tick by on the clock in the corner of the studio. Gawd, I used to be waaaay more flexible.
I finally make it all the way to shavasana. I try very hard to just be ... to relax ... to be aware of my chest rising and falling. I take a quick peek around the room at all the relaxing/meditating/almost sleeping yogis around me. As I squeeze my eyes shut again I resist the urge to laugh out loud at the silence of the room. Bizarre and random images pop into my mind and I stifle a giggle.
I reflect on how truly terrible I am at this.
And through it all is the earnest and patient yoga instructor. Asking me to listen to my breathing. Pleading with me to notice my body. Encouraging me to individualize my yoga practice.
Yogi's choice. Always yogi's choice.
Wonderful. Imma just be down here in child's pose humming the theme to Reading Rainbow. You are welcome to sing along.
Namaste.
olive juice, okay?
emily
p.s. And speaking of out-of-character, September is officially a vegetarian month for me this year... with an option to end vegan. I'll letcha know how it goes.
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