Tuesday, September 23, 2003

Stretching the Bounds of Humor

I’ve started doing yoga in a class once a week, instead of just by myself in my own little studio.  It’s fun and I can really feel the impact of each class for days afterwards.  However, I can’t seem to “empty my mind.” Even when I’m contorted uncomfortably, telling myself that my own breath is the only worthy focus of my concentration, my brain is goofing off.  Two shameful examples, which might not make much sense to folk who don’t know their asanas from their elbows:

* They’re telling us that we’re doing hatha yoga.  Well, I can’t do everything that everybody else is doing - I have no balance, only midrange flexibility.  What the hell, I rationalize, I’ll do what I can.  Hatha yoga is better than none.

* I’m remembering that yoga is a lifestyle, and that lifestyle includes vegetarianism.  But I’ve been on a modified Atkins diet for a while and meat is a big part of my life these days.  As I settle into a strong pose and feel the prana course through the soles of my feet and up my legs, I wonder what’s for supper.  Maybe a burrito.  This pose makes me hungry for meat.  It’s the carne asana. 

There are more, even worse, miscarriages of language that occur to me when I’m in the yoga class, which I will not impose on you.  But maybe I need to take up a less contemplative form of fitness.  Jazzercizers probably don’t feel like they need to slap themselves for thinking up dumb Bob Fosse jokes during their sessions.  Then again, I would probably make everybody else laugh by my antics, like screwing up and falling over.  Maybe it’s better to enjoy a private joke than to become a public one.