Face the Fire

I exercise so you don't have to (a gem I borrowed from Daisy Barringer, who writes for another fab blog, xojane). I love everyone in my yoga family, but I sometimes statements like this are necessary to awaken the more dormant members.

If you have been practicing in the hotness for years and have seen zero change in your mind and body, maybe you should consider sucking your stomach in and putting your back into it. Showing up may seem like the biggest battle, but it's not enough. If you want results, you can't just be there; you have to want to be there. So if you are ready to commit (I know -- this can be the most insurmountable obstacle in life for many of us), allow me to torture you for 90 minutes. Please do not drag your ass to class begrudgingly because, trust me, there are countless others who would take your place in a heartbeat -- those who aren't physically able to participate (not because they had too many shooters the night before), financially able or mentally/emotionally fit to engage in such an intense practice. This life is a gift; sweating out whatever ails you is a privilege; it's always up to you how you choose to use it.

Even in times of trial, whether at home, work or play (fortunately, I've been able to make the two latter interchangeable) I try to cherish the good stuff. I'll bitch and moan for some initial catharsis, then look for the rest in whatever simple joys I can grasp. Funny how the general ambiance in the yoga room of late has been one of disgruntled flailing. Struggle is, of course, part of the process, but one can elect to push through it with even a hint of a smile and turn suffering into strength.

Just a couple of days ago, I brilliantly prepared myself a satisfyingly dense, creamy, comforting pasta lunch (who doesn't crave this stuff when it's gloomy outside) only two hours before practicing what turned out to be a solidly challenging, heavy, humid class. Standing there, inches from the mirror, in my tiny two-piece, about to give my abdominal muscles a beating, I reflected upon the dangerous combination of rich food and working myself inside out, bones to the skin, fingertips to the toes -- not such a hot situation. Like almost always, I managed to persevere and push, push, push -- even making a concerted effort to paint a small smile onto my face, which as is apt to happen, became genuine.

Class finished. I made it -- we all make it through every practice, even the most hellish ones, but we best serve ourselves and our fellow yogis doing so with as much grace as possible. I always encourage breath before depth, standing still, sitting down or laying down when necessary. If you spend most of your class moaning and groaning in what can only be described as, what Christian at Commercial Drive delights in comparing to, "auditioning for soft porn" -- suck it up buttercup and keep it to yourself.

Most of the outward complaining in the room seems to be nothing more than a cry for help, but honey, you know the only person who can help you is yourself -- so get on it and come see me tomorrow.