May 14, 2008

I took another yoga class last night, another spine opening relaxing, restorative class.

Much like last week, last night’s class was inner-peace inducing glory.

I did not, however, have such a strong vision.  Why, you ask?  Was I unable to calm the chatter in my head?  Was I thinking about what I would blog about today as I avoid any action that would minutely be classified as work?


I did learn one thing though, and that is to not position myself so close to the bathroom door.  When someone in your class has un-zen digestion issues and repeatedly gets up during class and walks to the restroom door (talking 4 or 5 times in the hour) and walks back to their mat in a wake of distracting (foul) aromas, it is the hardest thing to concentrate on your breath – not what your breath is breathing, but the breath itself.

I realize meditation takes practice, and distractions will come at you like flies to poop, but this one threw me for a loop.  

Luckily it didn’t linger too long, and wafted to the other side of the room, yogis passing out in it’s trail.
The only thing to keep me from spiritual bliss and the world of distractions was myself…

…and the guy behind me with itchy feet.  shwoo shwoo shwoo

what the-?

shwoo shwoo shwoo

scratch scratch scratch

The light that had begun to trickle down the top of my head suddenly gave way to imagining Itchy Foot Guy scratching his hairy feet, rubbing them on the carpet, scratching them again, rubbing them against each other.




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