A little backstory before I get to this week’s Yoga Adventures. One recent Friday I was off of work and decided to take a weekday yoga class. Ah! What a luxury! I knew there would be less people– maybe some stay-at-home parents and some retirees– which would mean space. Space that extended a foot or two on either side of my mat (weekend and night classes with my beloved Chaturanga Man and the lovely Stretchy Woman are always packed). I didn’t know the teacher for this weekday luxury class. Oh well, I thought. It’s probably nice to try out a new teacher.
New teacher breezed in exactly at the moment class was to start and looked like she just stepped off of the cover of Yoga Journal, my new favorite magazine. She had a cute, short haircut, and a great yoga outfit, and a yoga body with sculpted shoulders and arms. She was adorable and perfect– the Yoga Covergirl. If you saw her on the street you’d probably guess she was a yoga instructor.
Covergirl’s teaching style was new to me. She spoke during the entire hour in a soft, melodic voice telling us to follow our breath and she didn’t stop moving. She sort of did her own practice and we were invited to follow along to the extent we could. Basically, it was C-Man on steroids. Which was fine. I wasn’t totally sold on it, but whatever. It was a class and I was grateful to attend.
Anyhoo, fast forward to Stretchy Woman’s Thursday night class. The class was light on attendance, maybe because of spring breaks. Also, I think the majority of New Year’s Resolutioners are over it now and back to their old unhealthy ways. Yay! Parking spots abound!
I put my mat down and started to stretch when the door flings open and guess who walks in. You know who. The Giggle Girl.
I posted about The Giggle Girl here and told you what a distraction she was during class, however, since that post on March 11, I hadn’t seen her– until Thursday night when she parked herself front and center face to face with Stretchy, and dropped her water bottle and a stack of tissues next to her. Wonderful, I thought.
Then I remembered that the night before I had preached tolerance to all of you, and silently chastised myself for being a hypocrit. Tolerance for The Giggle Girl, I reminded myself.
Stretchy Woman starts class by asking if anyone has any requests for body parts to work on. The usual responses are things people want worked on, like “neck,” “balance,” “core.” Well last night, Giggle’s request was something she didn’t want to work on: “No thighs” she requested, followed by a fit of giggles.
No thighs? It’s a yoga class, and basically any standing pose is going to work the thighs, no? I’m no expert, but if Stretchy Woman could have figured out a way to avoid working the thighs, I’d be impressed. Then, The Giggle Girl said she wanted to “do the wall” again, which meant she wanted to do final resting pose up against the wall. You may recall that last time I attended class with her, this modification for final resting pose caused a hysterical outburst. Tolerance for The Giggle Girl…. Tolerance for The Giggle Girl, I told myself. As we shut our eyes and “came to our breath,” it became my mantra. On the inhale: “Tolerance,” on the exhale “for The Giggle Girl,” inhale: “Tolerance,” exhale: “For The Giggle Girl.” You get my drift.
I settled down and began to breathe and re-focus and all that fun stuff, when who walks in and unrolls her mat next to me? The Yoga Covergirl. So of course now I am entirely unfocused and totally could not “come to my mat.” Sitting between an instructor and The Giggle Girl, I was toast. And we hadn’t even started yet.
When I returned home after class I told my husband about the Return of The Giggle Girl and listed the things that had caused her sillies during class: Alternate nostril breathing caused laughter and then a series of snorts and tissue use, followed by trips across the floor to the garbage can; cow face pose almost had her in tears. Here’s a pic of cow face pose:
Then I told him about Yoga Covergirl and how her down dog was so perfect and how nice her biceps were and about her cute yoga top and he asked me if I was in love with her. I think I may be. I did watch her the entire class (besides some evil eye glances towards The Giggle Girl), wishing I could have short hair and not look like a boy, and tried to mimic her lovely gate pose:
Definitely not focused on my practice during this class. I think that in yoga, and also in life (one of my new favorite phrases) it is so difficult to tune out of “all that” and into “what matters.” Why is that? In yoga, I wonder if a class without mirrors would help. Anyone ever try a yoga class without mirrors, if that exists? I think in life, the equivalent of yoga without mirrors is to look inward, instead of at the images and scenarios scattered all around us trying to distract us from what matters.
I am going to make my main goal for Sunday yoga to stay focused. Hopefully my new Yoga Crush and The Giggle Girl will be no-shows!
Have a nice weekend!