Philosophical Foray

Bikram Yoga is like an escape from reality. Is it? Killed my Self in Cedric's class at Kits Monday night, in which he brought to our attention the backwardness of this statement. He told us to look at ourselves in the mirror and embrace this moment as our reality; this sweaty, awkward, emotional (more so for some) body-bending and strengthening session we put ourselves through so we can better manage life on the outside. I thought, this guy's for real. He know's what's up. The gym-jacked, perfectly-tanned, egocentric poser with the attention span of a toddler between me and Cedric created such a glaring juxtaposition, it was difficult to keep from laughing every minute of the 90.

This constant struggle, moving meditation, taking oneself to the brink, beyond and back -- this is reality. Walking into a brightly-lit room, wearing next-to-nothing, free of the accouterments to which so many of us are accustomed (the yoga room is one of the few places you will ever catch me without makeup), facing my own deeply introspective eyes, skinny arms, rosebud breasts, junk in the trunk, camel pose calluses attractively taking up precious real estate on my knees and not only accepting what I come into the room with, but constantly assessing every body part, muscle, ligament, joint, facial expression, to make sure it is working at its optimum level, to create a body that just won't quit and a mind so peaceful, it is overwhelmed by nothing -- this is honesty.

Reality is inescapable inside the sanctum of the yoga room, ever elusive on the outside. In an effort to make life seem easier, we often choose to make malleable the truth that is ourselves and our existence, but truth is unalterable -- it is exactly as it is and we must accept it as such if we ever hope to work with what we have, rather than against it.

I recommend coming to class just as you are, but carefully cognizant of whom that really is. Maybe you're someone who, out of habit and self-doubt, always sits down after awkward pose; maybe you refuse to practice anywhere but the farthest, dimmest, coolest back corner of the room; maybe you choose only to situate yourself front and centre, next to the podium, afraid you'll be too easily distracted or fail to push yourself otherwise (often a bad habit of mine). Whatever your deal, you're always welcome. Bring your inhibitions and transform them into wings that will enable you to become much greater than the sum of your parts.

The Space Between Your Ears

One of the reasons we hone the mind-body connection in class is so you can enable the power of your mind to overcome resistances in your body. Your mind knows what's up, what your body can handle and what it can't, what is good for it and what will leave you doubled over in a sugar coma of uselessness. Our mind can be our worst enemy or our best friend -- it's up to us. We make the decisions to look, feel and act a certain way.

On Canada Day, I took Maya for an afternoon escape to Starbucks, which delighted her even more than it did me, because she walked there -- the whole way alongside me. Granted, we live across the street from Starbucks and it's likely no more than 100 metres from our door, but for a peanut, that's pretty far.

A look of accomplished pride plastered across her face as we entered the cafe, she drew eyes and hearts from all around. The barista couldn't resist and handed her one of those dangerously delicious, but totally unnecessary cake-pop pastries they recently started carrying; while kind and generous in intention, the offering was a digestive disaster. Maya clutched her pink, sugary prize, nibbling away at it all the way home. Shortly after a paltry dinner, which couldn't be helped because her tiny tummy was full of nutritionally bereft garbage, Maya tossed her cookies. Fortunately, most of it hit the laminate and not the couch and she seemed to be pacified with a bottle of water and a snuggle, but I'm fairly certain her gastrointestinal fireworks could have been prevented had her afternoon alimentary intake and its possible ramifications been more consciously considered. Poor doll -- victim of a cake-pop. Who knew something so innocent in appearance could do so much damage? I've experienced far worse from more benign delights.

The night following my gross negligence of Maya's nutritional needs, I prepared for her a complete, nutrient-rich dinner (by prepared I mean heated up what Nimrod had already thrown together) of beef goulash, broccoli and wholewheat noodles -- perfect. Having taken care of the most important person, I muted my mind, tucked her into bed and, having exhausted my domestic energies, feasted on a box of granola for dinner; this was a choice lacking any intelligence or foresight. Granola, being laden with satiating fiber is great in small amounts, but anything more than a small bowlful can sit in the stomach for enough time to turn one off it forever. By Sunday afternoon's afternoon of teaching, I still had a belly full of the stuff and resembled myself at four months pregnant -- very attractive and ironic considering my rant about the responsibility of a Bikram Yoga Instructor to look the part. But of, course, the magic of the hot room worked on me and after three hours of emphatic encouragement, coaxing new students to stay in the room and take it easy, and pushing regulars beyond their self-imposed limitations, my stomach shrank down to normal and I looked forward to whatever divine dinner I could suggest Nimrod make for me.

Incredible how powerful the mind can be when effectively harnessed and how easily it can be neglected, like when anyone decides to consume anything from McDonald's. Women can use mental strength to distract or focus themselves (whichever serves them better) and withstand childbirth unaided by pain-dulling medication; people can run marathons, make it through Bikram's torture chamber unscathed; go without sleep for 30 hours straight caring for the ill and wounded (don't think you do it without looking -- and acting -- like you belong in Shaun of the Dead); heal from heartbreak and open themselves up to finding another partner they can't imagine life without.

It is not enough to have the potential of mind control; we must be cognizant of it and use it to be the best possible versions of ourselves. Sure, nobody is perfect and the occasional slip is always a lesson learned, but a mind is a terrible thing to waste; some lose theirs entirely before their time expires and, from what I can gather reading and watching films on the subject of mental degeneration, they feel completely futile.

Past adolescence, we know what's best for us; so why do so many of us spend our whole lives choosing the opposite?