When I first heard about this "hot yoga" Bikram stuff, I totally resisted. I mean, hey, I was different...I needed a "real" workout, and didn't want al the 'woo woo' crap of a yoga class. Despite a friend's persistent calls and emails about how good she was feeling after a few months of regular Bikram yoga classes, I continued to run...and run...and then run some more. Don't get me wrong, I think running can be a fine thing...but for me, it became about intention. My intention was fear based...so I overate at night and overran in the day...1, 2 hrs, or more. I ran in fear of getting fat and towards some elusive goal that I could never actually pinpoint. It ceased being fun. Or healthy. I lived with aches, chafing, and blisters, and I even ran for weeks on what turned out to be a stress fracture in my foot. Good times..not.
So I finally agreed to go to Bikram with my friend one day after she promised me that I would see "my sweat sweat..." Of course, I had to jog the 20 minutes or so to class, so I would get my "work out" just in case this wimpy class was too easy. I vaguely remember the specifics of that very first class, though I do recall that I did NOT like all the mirrors...ok, the mirrors were fine, actually...I didn't like what I saw in the mirrors...me. And for 90 minutes, I had to gaze into my own eyes most of the time. And I sweated. A lot. It was not technically hard, really, though I was initially pretty frustrated when the yogini near me (who was probably half my size and half my age) could get her foot over her head in Dandayamana Dhanurasana (standing bow pose) and my foot was nowhere to be seen. OK, I kinda obsessed on this pose...I even dreamed about it. It bugged me dammit...there is a story about surrender around this pose but I'll save it for another day.
That was nearly 7 years ago...I kept up my classes, and besides the physical aspect of the asanas (postures), I began to LISTEN...to my teachers...to that little voice I had ignored...not the ego voice that was often filled with toxic thoughts...my inner voice...my truth. I began to actually like what I saw in the mirror when I gazed into my own eyes. And when I did go for a jog or walk, it wasn't based in fear. Instead I began to notice the flowers, the landscaping, my neighbors....the universe. And it didn't revolve around me....
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Ok, well, it's not all about toenails...afterall, I entitled this blog "Tattoos and Toenails"...so on with the tattoos, right? It seems that tattoos have become so commonplace and mainstream these days; nearly everyone in my classes seem to have at least one tattoo...maybe not a large and obvious one, but at least one, nevertheless. From men and women in their 70s, maybe even 80s, to the young conservative mothers, permanent body art has become the norm. Some students are so covered that it is hard to take my eyes, and even my mind off of the artwork, wondering if there is a story or some sort of history that led up to this person choosing a particular design or subject. And yes, I must admit, I find myself getting closer and closer to taking the tattoo plunge myself as the idea and design continue to swirl around in my head.
So, this is my first entry in this blog. It's not my first blog, and I cannot even promise myself or readers (if there are any readers out there) to continue with any consistency. At this point, it is just an initial attempt to relay some thoughts, stories, and maybe even a bit of wisdom here and there as it relates to my life and experience as a yoga teacher...and a mother (and daughter and sister and auntie and niece), a business woman, a student, and a regular ol' flawed human.