It was on my 18th spine-roll that I made the rude noise.
It reverberated around the yoga studio like the sounding of the gong.
I try so hard yet spiritual enlightenment and smooth digestion still escape me.
My afternoon began with the formidable task of turning left against three onrushing lanes of traffic.
I decided it would be easier to just walk the 1.5 miles to therapy.
It was just one sentence into my session that I realized I had lost my voice and had to make do for the following two hours acting out my feelings with the stuffed animals.
I showed what I liked about —-. She was competely present in all our conversations, and seemed fully honest. She didn’t display an ounce of fear. Some people fear me, but she didn’t. Not a little bit. She was graceful and gracious. It might’ve been the yoga. It gives people a glow. Their breathing slows down and they’re not as compulsive and they learn to listen and be still and be sensitive to those around them.
At the end of class tonight, the guru left us with a one-sentence wish: "May you learn to forgive yourself."
After class, I talked to a very unspiritual chap who said his primary reason for starting yoga this week was to meet girls.
Imagine!
He’ll never attain enlightenment.
