What To Do About YOGA
This article was written by our friend Ruth Chodniewicz. Ruth is a talented talent with many talents, one of them writing.
Yoga. I have a theory that it’s a fad. Like sushi. Everyone’s hopping on the bandwagon now… but it will fade. I know, I know. It’s great for spiritual health, mental clarity and physical strength. Don’t need help on the first two… but I can always use exercise. So, two days ago I reluctantly agreed to attend a yoga class with my friend, Natalie.
We arrive with our rolled-up mats in hand, ready for 75 minutes of strengthening. I made a promise to Natalie beforehand that I would not make her laugh (not on purpose at least). And I tried not to eat any foods that might make me “gassy” that day. (Sorry, no Wendy’s chili until tomorrow.)
The class starts. The typical hippie instructor starts talking about New Year’s resolutions. She asks us to “resolve to find ourselves in our minds and bodies on an ongoing basis.” She has us put our hands on our knees, facing upward, to show our willingness to accept what this class has to offer. I didn’t really hear the rest of her speech, because I was too focused on the gong at the front of the room. Was she really going to use a GONG?!
The stretching begins. Lasts about 10 minutes. Then she says, “Let’s lay on our tummies.” So, I lay on my stomach, expecting a stretch of some sort. Downward dog. The plank. Anything! But… nothing. For 15 minutes. Hippie instructor didn’t even say a word. 15 minutes!
Then I hear in a whispery voice, “Let the gravity pull your limbs down to the earth.” Really? How much closer to the earth can I be. I am kissing the earth. “Let’s try a new position now.” We moved onto our sides. For another 15 minutes. The clincher was when she asked if any of us wanted to be covered with a blanket. I lost it.
It was then that I realized I paid $17 for a nap. Not even a good nap at that. I was completely ripped off, especially considering I get 6-8 hours of “yoga” every night for FREE. In my own bed. On my comfy sheets. And without the creepy, hairy man in the front row making eyes at me.
As you can imagine, the class ended with about 15 minutes of lying on our backs. Afterward, she served us nasty tea and asked me how I felt. “I feel like you just emailed me about a $1.2 million bank transfer that you needed my help with… and I actually replied to the email.”
I found out later that we took a “restorative yoga” class, which is targeted toward stressed out people that need to rest. An adult nap center? A grown-up kindergarten? Genius.
The question remains: What to do about yoga? Cash in, people. Not by attending–become an instructor. Make money by talking nonsense and covering people with blankets. Added bonus: you can go to work in your sweats and let your hair slowly dread up without worrying what your boss will say. You answer to the “spirits.” In this economy, we must take action. And by action, I mean completely staying still… for 75 minutes at a time.
Gong!
