Last night I made it to a yoga class, in an attempt to alleviate my recent bouts of unexpainable exhaustion. Yoga is an interesting art form. It's spiritual and physical; it doesn't require significant power but offers strength, flexibility and relaxation. And I have yet to find anything that helps with back pain as much as yoga - it's truly amazing. Sounds like a good deal, right? Sign me up!
One issue I have with yoga classes is that I cannot concentrate when it's time for the meditation and relaxation part. Maybe I have ADD, but I can't zone out when they tell you to listen to your heart, breath, etc. I can't relax. A million things always run through my head, and then I become aware of the fact that I am unable to zone out and then I think about that. It's very similar to the insomnia cycle, when you realize you can't fall asleep and then you think about not being able to fall asleep.
Perhaps it's me, but I find that some yoga instructors act a bit too new-age lalalala transcendental. It seems slightly overdone; faux-deepness. Let's all relax and thank the earth for our every breath, for birds and trees. Now pay me $20 and go back to consulting/banking/partying/being American.
At home, I sometimes watch yoga shows on the Indian TV Channels my parents get (yay Zee-TV and Sony Entertainment Television!) It's so different. First of all, the yogis are usually older men. And they are truly amazing; they exude such a mastery of the art and command so much respect. Going to a class taught by some very bubbly 20-year-old after that loses a little something. Don't get me wrong; I respect their dedication to the practice of yoga and I am grateful for the fact that they are the reason I can even take a class. But still, there is always something a bit off. When they do the vedic chants in Sanskrit, it's like fingernails across a chalkboard. And Namaste is pronounced NAM-aste not nam-ASTE.
Back to yesterday. The class was described as "gentle", which sounded very appealing since anything that requires too much energy is a stretch for me. The class started off nicely until we started getting into some freaky-deaky poses. FYI, for those of you have never done yoga, some of the poses are oddly sexual. Maybe not so odd, with the whole Kama Sutra and all. But still, no position in which you'd find yourself on any given Wednesday.
So one pose involved us using folding chairs. Somehow or another, we ended up with our feet all the way up on the chair and our butts supported up on some blankets, and foam yoga blocks propping up our backs. I don't know. I improvised the best I could. It felt nice but hurt at the same time. But it was stretching my back, which is always a good thing.
Class ended, and I felt proud of myself for doing something remotely physically active. Things were a-OK until this morning, when I woke up with a big bruise across my behind and noticeable pain when I tried to sit down. Hmph. That's the problem with yoga. You have no idea what the heck you are doing to your body until some delayed physical response kicks in. Sometimes this is good - i.e, my abs are a bit sore too. But bruises on my bum? Funky inverted poses on folding chairs? It was a bit too cirque-du-soleil for my taste.
So I think I'll lay off the yoga for a while, or find a more balanced (normal?) class. There are some classes in NY that I've attended which have been good - they move quickly and spend more time on the actual poses than the relaxation, which I like. Sometimes it seems to me that instructors spend more time on the relaxation so that they can chill out rather than teach.
The thing is, I'm still really exhausted. Other things I am considering: taking up swimming or bike riding. Probably swimming. Because bike riding ... as if I'm not enough of a spaz, let's add wheels to the picture.
Happy Thursday all! It's almost Friday, which means another rendez-vous with the Chinatown Bus. I'm giving it another chance. Though I'm bracing myself, with the DNC finishing tonight ... who knows what the travel situation will be tomorrow.
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ps: Ellen Degeneres had a great monologue about yoga in one of her standup specials ("The Beginning" or "Here and Now" - both of which are *fantastic* - I highly recommend watching them if you haven't yet.) She echoes my sentiments about being unable to concentrate. She says that when it's time to meditate and get to the spiritual place, what comes into her head? "Mama keeps whites, white like the new day ... Mama's got the magic of Clorox Bleach!" Hilarious. There is no such thing as having an empty head - even if you try to clear your thoughts, the randomest and stupidest thing will enter your mind.
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