Hot Hot Yoga

They ain’t kiddin’ when they call it hot.  Hot Yoga is just that. Hot. Hot. Hot.  They don’t mention the humidity, though.  Very smart.

Truth be told, I hate hot yoga.   I love/hate it.  An oxymoronic statement, I know, but so is jumbo shrimp but everybody still says it.

I’ve been torturing myself for years and still can’t do certain asanas like locust pose. Now I know why they named it after a biblical plague.

During recent practice – we yoginis call yoga “practice” rather than workout so gotta stay in character here even though it’s sharking the culture of others and calling it our own, a uniquely American tradition – I had just finished struggling with my nemesis pose, frustrated, sweating profusely and turning my yoga towel into a modern day Shroud of Turin when a fellow student I’ll call Becky, began ignoring our very patient instructor.  It became increasingly annoying. The incident went a bit like this very short screenplay entitled Becky the Mouth Breather: 

FADE IN:

INT. Y0GA STUDIO – DAY

The studio was at its maximum hellish temperature, packed with sweaty students. Salabhasana had just ended and students were attempting to stave off heat stroke with measured in/out nose breathing…except for BECKY the Mouth Breather. She was taking in air through her nose (loudly) and expelling a virtual air tsunami through her mouth.

INSTRUCTOR:

Becky, please calm your breath. Remember, in through your nose and out through your nose.

BECKY the Mouth Breather:

I’m pranayama breathing.

INSTRUCTOR:

That was our first deep breathing pose. Please focus now on your measured breathing.

Becky continues with her giant sucking sounds as the rest of the class tries to pretend they don’t hear it.

INSTRUCTOR:

Please, Becky.  Do your best to breath normally.

The air tsunami continues to fill the room but our patient instructor keeps her cool.

INSTRUCTOR:

In through the nose, out through the nose.  Focus on the breath as you calm yourself.

Becky ignores her, yet again, continues her goldfish-out-of-water imitation.

Finally, a frustrated student who will remain nameless has had enough.

FRUSTRATED STUDENT:

Yo, Becky! Shut your goddamn cake hole and breathe through your schnoz! This is a ZEN space, goddamn it!

Well, unnamed student didn’t say it out loud. She was just using her third eye, that place of intuition and insight,  to envision the potential of what could be.

 

 

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