Articles on Living
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Sept 6th , 2010 - Me No Yogini
I was never really into Yoga despite having seen pictures of those elegant-looking people in elegant clothing in elegant poses. It looks simple yet daunting at the same time...makes sense? Anyway, my initial take on Yoga was that it was either for insane people (all that ohm business gets seriously...weird) or they were for old people.
Can you blame me? It reminds me of Taichi...the old people in the park, slow-moving their arms and legs, balance, don't rush, the meaning of life, life is like water, flowing grace...lalalalala....
And then I joined a gym because my sister is a bit of health freak. And I was getting tired of being tired of the ever-present baby fat around the mid-drift. Being all hyped up about the (future) newer, slimmer me, Yoga never appealed to me until one of my friends recommended it.
Power Yoga. You'd think it'd tell me something, huh? I didn't stand a chance. Didn't last 5 minutes! What do you mean put my leg behind my neck?!
I got smarter the next time round and decided Hatha Yoga sounded....sane enough. But here is the thing about your first time in a yoga class. It is awkward.
Unlike other classes, in this one, you particularly want to look good or at least, look as if you know what is going on. Maybe it is because the description is so spiritual. My friend assured me that I would not be transported into another plane or dimension in the class.
So, you walk in trying to look really flexible, all cool and then realized that nobody wears a t-shirt into a yoga class. Because? Well, there are upside-down poses to do and just imagine what it would do to your t-shirt? Right. You show your auntie bra to the rest of the class. I dealt with the issue by tucking my t-shirt into the top of my track bottom.
If there is one thing that I can never get over about a yoga class, it is the fact that you keep wanting to check people out and hoping that nobody is checking you out. Your ass is up in the air and you wonder if the person behind you can see the panty lines. And then you look up and see the buttocks in front of you.
Every bend, pull, movement, you keep worrying if your bulge was showing. I know they tell you that nobody notices and nobody cares – how sure are you?
Fine, I know NOW that in yoga, you are supposed to concentrate on yourself...easier said than done, I tell you. I couldn't balance my thoughts, what more my body.
The other unnerving thing about a large yoga class is sometimes, the teacher walks around...or the assistant walks around 'helping' students with their poses. I don't know about you (because you might appreciate the help) but I would prefer it if the teacher(s) let me deal with my own inadequacies.
And after every yoga class, there is this part whereby the teacher switches on some really cosmic, peaceful music, asks the students to lie down on their mats, palms up, knees relaxed, eyes closed and breathe slowly...relax.
This is before I started practicing yoga and meditation at home, bear in mind, so, what does a restless mind do when trying to 'relax' in a roomful of strangers?
I think to myself, 'I am paying for THIS?! Sleeping?' Ah well...at least, I know better now.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marsha Maung is a Malaysian-based freelance web copywriter with two kids. She spends her time ferrying her kids around, watering her plants, writing web content, SEO stuff, ghostwriting books and also indulges in the occasional Facebook-ing. Visit her blog for more dirty details on the life and times of a mother, writer, designer, housekeeper, coffee-maker, poop-wiper, chef...and just about everything else under the sun.
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Either paste the above ABOUT THE AUTHOR stuff into your website (with links included) or copy the following codes into your website. That's it! Thank you! *muax*
<b>Marsha Maung</b> is a Malaysian-based <a href="http://www.marshamaung.com" target="_blank">freelance writer</a> with two kids. She spends her time ferrying her kids around, watering her plants, writing web content, SEO stuff, ghostwriting books and also indulges in the occasional Facebook-ing. Visit her <a href="http://www.marshamaung.blogspot.com" target="_blank">blog</a> for more dirty details on the life and times of a mother, writer, designer, housekeeper, coffee-maker, poop-wiper, chef...and just about everything else under the sun.
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