Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

Almost a Yogi September 8, 2014

Filed under: Almost a Yogi — Scribbling Dame @ 9:23 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Well hello, old friend. I’ve thought about writing you–often. Then I get tired and fall asleep instead.

But here I am and I signed up for my 200 hour yoga teacher certification. I’m a goddamned hippie. Even better, I have to go vegetarian for my training period, which is funny since in my last post about yoga I was all like “nobody’s touching my bacon.” They got to me!

Can I tell you how totally insane it is for me to sign up for this? I’m not that advanced in yoga–I literally cannot even touch my heels to the ground in downward dog. I’m probably 30 pounds larger than most yoga teachers (15 lbs of which is pure boob) and I’m not entirely sure that teaching yoga is a goal for me. Did I mention I work full time and have two kids under age 7. And a dog. And I’m going to be vegetarian over the holidays (no Christmas crab!). FML.

Despite all of that mumbo jumbo, I still felt freakishly compelled to sign up for it. I’m sure it’s going to break me and I love that. I love being a student and it’s been a long time since I got into something where I felt lost and nervous and exhilarated and liberated. I’m ready to be new at something and probably a bit goofy at it like a deer learning to walk or something. I’m pretty sure that’s how I’ll approach headstands.

Plus there are a couple of really important things I need to learn like, how not to laugh like a middle school boy at the inevitable class fart, and find out why I’m not supposed to do an inversion when I’m on my period.

Let me give you a sense of what my “hobby” entails:

–Learn a new language (Sanskrit)

–Learn and understand most of the muscular and skeletal make-up of the human body

–Read 6 books (many of which are philosophical) and write a report on one

–Learn and do most of the poses by going to at least 12 hours of yoga classes each week

–Eat nothing with a mother


–Find enlightenment and let go of my ego

All in approximately 12 weeks time. And this is what I do for fun. Did I also mention that I sweat profusely when doing power vinyasa?

Namaste people.

I'm pretty sure this is what I might look like doing yoga.

I’m pretty sure this is what I might look like doing yoga.




I’d rather be in Savasana… December 2, 2013

This is how I know I’ve become a yoga nerd.

I was at a lovely dinner at a friend’s house and I don’t even know how, but the subject of yoga came up–and, before you think me too sophisticated, we also definitely talked about farts as a part of the subject. Anyway, before I knew it I was talking about how tough it was to break my pinky toe because I had just started getting good at articulating my individual toes. I’m sipping cocktails after a gourmet-style feast, sitting on a leather Italian designer chair under installation art and I’m proudly describing how I have actively worked toward moving my toes one at a time up and down.

Yoga nerd.

This is most definitely a final confirmation that I am about 97% of all things described on Stuff White People Like. My gun-toting Republican relatives have forever lost me to all the liberal hippie jib-jab nonsense that comes with living in the Pacific NW. Except being a carnivore. I will never give up my bacon, even if I do prefer to know who farmed it.

Holy sh*t!

Holy sh*t!

Back to yoga. I first started it in college when I figured it’s what rich white ladies do, and so in my aspirations to be said rich white lady, I tried it out. I liked it. I did it off and on for a few years and every time I told myself “why’d I stop doing this? I need to do yoga all the time.” It was a great stress reliever and always made me stop to realize just exactly how tightly wound I was.

Now I’ve been doing yoga at least three times a week for the past year and since I’ve had the flexibility to fit it into my lifestyle I am addicted, precisely because I am about as connected to my body as E.T. phoning home. I know it’s out there, but I just can’t seem to get it to communicate. Or more appropriately, I am teaching myself what it feels like to listen to it.

It has told me my hips and right wrist are fucked up and I’m about as flexible as a concrete wall. My blossoming lotus is more like a venus fly trap. And as my body tells me these things, I am supposed to be kind and accepting of “wherever my body decides to be today.” This is the exact opposite of my nature.

And that is exactly why I am hooked. Almost everything about yoga is the opposite of my default mode; slow breathing, singular focus, acceptance, balance, heightened awareness, connection with my physical self. I am doing this on the mat, after driving to yoga while eating fast food in my front seat, checking email on my phone mostly at red lights and throwing food to the caged animals I call my children in the back seat.

I am really on a path to enlightenment. Except if you fart in class, then I am seriously laughing at you on the inside.


%d bloggers like this: