With the phlegm cleared (sort of - I'm still coughing up some ectoplasm even now) the last week of my January resolution went better than the whole month that preceded it. Have a look at how the week broke down, yoga-wise, in diary form:
Monday: I gamely stretched along to an Ekhart Yoga YouTube video and Esther Ekhart's weirdly calming accent. Trying to get a home practice going has somehow been more difficult than going to class. At least in class I'll commit to the whole thing. At home, anything longer than twenty minutes seems like a gross imposition on my time. Can you put a price on nirvana? No, but a time cap seems promising Still, I found one benefit to practicing at home: if you have cats, they'll attempt to join your practice, mostly by standing under you when you're in your downward dog. Aww.
Tuesday: Off to Perfect Butt Station with my girl Chloe for a Gentle Hatha and Meditation class. Farts were kept in check throughout the yoga portion. I couldn't keep my thoughts in check during the meditation part though. Never try to meditate while hungry.
Wednesday: Meditation. It's important to balance rest and meditation with more active forms of practice. Also: sometimes you get tired of dragging your yoga mat around Toronto. My meditation was guided by the Stupidest Article Ever Written About Yoga. Here's a synopsis of the article: white girl goes to yoga class, a Black woman sets her mat down behind her. Then the white girl can't concentrate on her practice because she feels bad at how whitewashed her studio is, and is convinced that the Black woman is hating her, specifically her, for it. Two real problems are identified in this piece, but only one was done so intentionally. Something has gone sour with yoga (at least as practiced in the West- can't speak to the rest) and who feels like they can practice it. There's a reason why Kula, my favourite studio in Toronto, started some positive space programs. However, there's another problem in this article, and it's that people with privilege often think being an ally means being a spokesperson. They can authoritatively know how everyone else is feeling, and what they're thinking - and, of course, all those thoughts must be about them!
My meditation got stuck on how I could avoid doing that. Was I a good ally, a misguided person, or was I sometimes an ugly racist? Also, what to do with the outrage accelerator that is the Internet? Oh, to think about food again. I think I just ended up falling asleep as I listened to the guided meditation, all of my questions left unresolved.
Thursday: To Perfect Butt Station, Downtown Branch, for a Core Yoga class. I'm concerned that it will just be pilates with added gongs, but fortunately it's an enjoyable, flowing class. I also experience the odd sensation of sweating while being completely cool. It feels damn weird.
Friday: On the last day of my resolution, and unable to schedule a real class with all of my other commitments, I give up and just do a few sun salutations to wake up. Marvin keeps me company. Waking up this way isn't as effective as an espresso, but it's at least on the level of a strong cup of tea. I'll try and do my sun salutations more often.
And with that, it was February. I've continued to go to yoga classes since then - once on Sunday, and again today. In a development that would shock absolutely no one, I am not perfectly calm after 30 days of B-grade practicing. However, I am somewhat more limber, and perhaps a touch more reflective, which seems like a B+ result.
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