Namaste

Photo on 3-4-15 at 5.20 PM #7

Today I’ve parked myself at a Starbucks by the yoga studio where I’m soon to find myself desperately clinging to a slab of rubber against the slippery force of my sweaty palms. That’s right. Hot yoga, baby. I took my first class the other day at a studio in the city and (despite my preclusion for spending an hour in a hot room in mid-town at the height of flu season), I loved it!

Something about moving and breathing through a blanket of warmth felt so right. And as a cold-blooded person who has zero tolerance for any temperature below 70 degrees, what might’ve been sweltering for most was just fine for me.

So today I’ll be attending a class at a studio near my house that offers all sorts of classes like hot yoga, aromatherapy yoga, and even anti-gravity yoga.

What’s that you ask? Exactly what it says. From a sheath of fabric chained to the ceiling like a folded up hammock, you’re meant to sustain poses in a manner that, “Quiet[s] the mind, while floating the body through a series of yummy gyro-kinetic motions… deeply open[ing] the entire spine, hips, and connective tissues of the body.”

Dancing Shiva

About a month ago I saw a Groupon for 10 classes at this studio and figured it would be worth a shot. Like any Groupon I’ve ever purchased, this one is near expiration and I’ve used it only once.

Allow me to explain…

I visited the website to sign-up for a session and surveyed all the beautiful pictures- small, candlelit studios taking on the atmosphere of a bat’s cave; from the ceiling hung a scattering of silken spider-egg sacs birthing outstretched arms and dangling ponytails.

“Calling my name,” I thought.

Bela is Dracula

So I sign up for my first class, which unbeknownst to me is called, Aroma Flow. Aroma, meaning they use scented oils throughout the session to invoke different sensations- i.e., Lemon balm or Peppermint for energy and alertness, Rose hip or Lavender for calmness and peacefulness.

“Well that sounds nice,” I think.

I walk into the room and I’m greeted by a lovely but incongruously energetic yoga instructor who helps to set me up with my hammock. I can’t help but notice that she chains one end of my hammock a little higher than the other and when I mention it, she says it’s supposed to be that way.

“Oh, okay.”

I smile and sit in my egg-sac waiting for class to begin. I mean, what do I know, right?

The rest of the women arrive (and that one ever present yoga-guy, naturally), and we begin. The lights dim and I can feel myself calming already. “Hi, my name is Karen and I’ll be filling in for Tara tonight. I’m not familiar with essential oils or what their purposes are but we’ll just use a few that I know of.” She goes into the back and an odd mix of trance music fills the room.

We begin the sequence and I’m doing pretty well.

Place your butt in the swing, lean back, part your legs, (don’t take this out of context, people), stretch and wrap your legs around the cloth to stay in place as you lean your back into a hanging position. I’ve got this!

Here’s what it looks like…

Screen Shot 2015-03-03 at 3.09.16 PM

Neat, huh? So we hang there for a few seconds. It feels good; my spine is definitely decompressed. Then a few seconds turns into 30 seconds, 30 seconds turns into a minute. I feel all of the blood in my body rushing toward my head. I imagine what my face must look like- all of my features up-turned, skin red and swollen like a tic about to pop. I laugh. Not smart. Suddenly my stomach turns.

“Okay now hang onto the sides and kick your legs forward into seated position.”

“Thank god,” I think.

Cocoon

We pause for a while; suspended in our little cocoons, quieting our minds, focusing on our breath. The room is silent. All the hammocks hang still in peaceful meditation.

Except for mine.

Karen’s off kilter rigging of my hammock has me swinging in the middle of the room faster than a ball-sac at Chippendale’s.

Chris Farley

As I try to center myself, our darling Karen comes around with the first round of essential oil- Peppermint Ad Nauseam. I resist inhaling the scent that has now permeated the room as I’m only just recovering sensation in my face. It doesn’t work.

Now it is time for the last sequence. We are to assume a pose known as, Vampire.

Vampire

Vampire Pose

Pretending to be a vampire in flight is something of a fantasy for me so as you might imagine, I am very excited. Until we’re told to once again flip backward and upside down to achieve the first part of the position. “You can do this,” I think, “Just a few more maneuvers and you’re free as a bird. Bat. Bella Lugosi!”

Except I don’t make it that far. The silk is digging into my back, my head is spinning, and my stomach is turning. If I try to make it past that position I might look like a bat… if that bat had been shot out of the sky mid-flight.

So I wait. I sit in my little cocoon of shame and wait for Karen to lower the down-tempo house music and prepare us for our final savasana.

“Ommmm -get me the fuck out of here- ommmmm.” I chant.

But as I sit here now, preparing for my next yoga endeavor I remember what some guy somewhere once said…

“The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried.”

I have not let this experience defeat me. If I keep going I will get better at this… right?

Photo on 3-4-15 at 5.23 PM #5

bryneva

2 Comments

    • Tenk yew, seester. For the shirt and for reading! lol

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