yoga humor, yogini style, yoga personality, yoga tips - Y is for Yogini

the yoga class that wasn't { i am a student. not your therapist. }

artwork credit: Charles Schultz { with a little help from YIFY }

At the risk of sounding like pure, pure assholio-ness, I have to say that I had a completely strangé (yes, accent on the "e") yoga class today.

I paid to be a yoga teacher's therapist.

You read that right. And I did. If you're looking for the bright side, you could say that my yoga for the day was providing an (unintended) open ear for a teacher who was obviously in need of verbal and emotional release. But I have to be honest and say I feel abused.

The Yoga Class That Isn't a Class:

1. 5% asana, 95% dialogue.
2. Said dialogue is of the verbal diarrhea, personal trauma, my life sucks, my relationship is in a shambles, wahhhh nature.
3. I should call the popo because you just R'd my ears and my time.
4. This is the ONE place where it's okay to bring my shit along with me in hopes that it will dissolve into my mat. Call me an asshole, but I don't have enough room for your shit. Isn't that why you take classes, too?
5. When three people leave — one slamming the door behind her in a huff, uhhh, there's a PROBLEM.
6. I don't wanna talk about my feeeeelings. And I don't want to hear the dregs and depths of yours. We only have 90 minutes, you know.
7. Your strange physical ailments are not proper class inspiration. I need you to speak Sanskrit to me.
8. For the love of Patanjali and everyone else on the 405, work me out, don't talk me out. Nobody needs to be exposed to my frequent bouts of road rage. Help those little drivers. They need you.
9. I understand that YOU are not MY therapist. This should be a two-way street.

But I was polite. And understanding. I nodded and looked sympathetic. For an hour and a half.

Any bulldog bill collectors out there? I'm due money for yoga therapy services rendered.

giraffe heart

artwork credit: onemilliongiraffes.com

Giraffe ♥s can weigh as much as 22 pounds and be 2 feet in length. Amazing.

Imagine if your heart was that big. That wide. That voluminous. Enough to power a 2,600 pound body.

Or wonder, perhaps, what it would be like if we lived as though our hearts were enormous. Wide open. Red and sweet like velvet cake. Warm and generous like a smile. Carrying prana throughout our bodies; healing old wounds, vessels of love blossoming. In the flow.

May your heart be like that of a giraffe. ♥ 

freckles and scars and lisps, oh my!

photo credit: tinatarnoff.typepad.com

Once upon a time, I took a virtual trip to glean a few secrets from expert beauticians. Yes, I went to a beauty/makeup message board. I'm all thumbs with makeup and have always preferred to not have a bunch of foreign dust on my face. It's a personal choice, ya'll. Anyway, I asked these girls about the freckle pencil Lancome had made at the time and whether they thought it worked well and looked natural.

By golly, all hell broke loose after that innocent little post. They attacked me like fierce baby sharks out for blood, er...mascara. The comments looked a bit like this: "What is wrong with you? Why would you WANT freckles?!" "I have freckles and believe me, you DON'T want them." "Freckles are awful, I spend all my time trying to cover mine up." "Is this a bleepety-bleeping joke?! If it is, it's NOT funny!" I limped away from that board without responding and resolved to get my damn freckle stick and free-hand it!

I'm disturbed by this obliteration of quirk. There's a mass attack on rare, special, and interesting characteristics and I do not like it, quirky-I-am! Whatever happened to CELEBRATING our differences, for these are what make us unique?! Well, I'm celebrating today. I give you a small list of some of the "quirks" I love...

Work Your Quirk:

1. Freckles. { they are so damned cute and i WILL pencil mine in if i freaking want to! }

2. Scars. { guaranteed, there's an interesting story behind each and every one. a record of mischief, pain, accidental spills. }

3. Lisps. { these pique my cochlea. sort of like listening to the whisper of the ocean. }

4. Retainers. { yup, something hot about a retainer. it looks so youthful. and it causes a slight lisp. there was once a hot boy i knew in high school who had a retainer. the retainer made him hotter. }

5. Phobias. { because you're human. and this makes you more so. and i love that spiders make you scream and you can't even get close to hospitals. b/c i have my own neuroses and we can share. }

In yoga, being the microcosm that it is, our quirks are amplified. Your makeup can't hide your beautiful freckles (that I so envy!) anymore, thanks to heat and sweat. The scar reminding you of an accident in a past life is now visible when you're half-naked. I want to ask you about it, even though it might be improper, because I want to know things about you. Perhaps we are long lost friends about to be reunited over a shared fear of toenail clippings (especially the blue ones, oh gawd, the BLUE ones!).

All I'm saying is, I love your quirks and I'm not going to hide mine. I will be celebrating both of ours — champagne anyone? — and look forward to seeing you at the party.

are you a meanie yogini? { 10 ways to know fo sho }

photo credit: izzymom.com

The words may rhyme, but "meanie" NEVER goes well with "yogini." We might be a little feisty, some of us are incredibly type-A, and everybody has an off day, but there IS a line.

The Meanie Yogini { or Yogi }:

1. Kicks your mat out of the way so she can squiggle in or make room for her pallie, Yoga B*tch #2.
2. Thinks share and share alike means take 10 blankets, 5 bolsters, and 8 straps. { What are you, an octopus? Who needs that many straps?! }
3. Spends her time flaming yoga bloggers. She posts anonymously or first-name only, as she can start shit, but isn't brave enough to handle the impending shitstorm. { Woman-up, already! }
4. Keeps an eyeball on the teacher and an eyeball on you — she has to make sure her tree is more expansive than yours. { Seriously? Don't make me cut you...down! }
5. Elbows or mat-thrusts her way to the front of the class line, even though everyone else is stacked properly and politely.
6. Acts like yoga isn't for everyone, as though there's some sort of velvet rope or hierarchy.
7. Hogs up YTT class time with insanely inane talk about herself. { Opportunity cost, biznatch! Don't want to hear you wax pathetic about your life story like it's a Lifetime movie audition. }
8. Talks up ahimsa, bliss, love, and kind living in front of the crowd, while behind the scenes, she smokes, wastes resources, acts shitty to people, and abuses everyone in her vicinity. { Let's recycle her! }
9. Haaaas to make a grand entrance or is habitually and unapologetically late to class.
10. Is passive-aggressive. { Well, there's nothing passive about me. How 'bout I show you my aggression? }

How to handle these hateful harlots? Patanjali gives us a simple key: DISREGARD TOWARD THE WICKED. Without the water of your attention, these smelly little flowers wilt and wither away. Ciao.

hey f*cker! you need yoga in your life.

photo credit: meh.ro

I have just unclenched my currently-clawlike hand from my iPhone. My teeth are gritted and I feel like paying a violent, gore-filled visit to the person who was on the other line. She has singlehandedly turned customer service to customer sepsis. My blood is boiling with the rage of agitated bacteria.

And then I remember. Practice. This is simply more. An opportunity to practice. I could continue to think about the 1,000,001 ways to throttle this girl, or I can STOP. Breathe. Calm. Remind myself that I have a choice: I can choose to let it all drop away. My pissed-off-ness isn't hurting her — she's busy shitting on the next person and racking up more questionable karma. Why give her any power at all?!

Huh. Ladies and gentlemen, this pup is learning new tricks.

And the truth is, we both need Yoga. I know I do. And she sure as hell does. Perhaps I should send her a YogaWorks pass?

Off the top of my head...

A Few Reasons F*ckers Need Yoga { yup, talking 'bout myself, too! }:

1. Staves off assholiness
2. Keeps you from throttling people { woo! no jail time! though if it goes too far and you do wind up there, Wesley Snipes can be your yoga teacher. }
3. Reminds you when to shutthefuckup
4. Teaches you to walk away tall

When was the last time your yoga practice saved you from the clink { aka jail, slammer, bighouse, assault charges, etc. } ?