Monday, 27 May 2013

Ex-lax of yoga

"It is not acceptable to not talk to the people you don't want to talk to." - some idiot in my office

My last blog was a Johnspeak overload. I promise this blog will not mention some asshole guru named John who has no testicles. No, I will not mention, not even once, some asshole guru named John who has no testicles. This blog will be free of some asshole guru named John who has no testicles.

I haven't talked much about my own yoga journey, like the real deal, like trying to touch my toes or to stand on my head. As an introvert, my practice has always been personal. (Yes, bitches, I'm an introvert, chew on that!) I know many of you are curious. Bitch please, don't even pretend. Y'all curious. And all men are curious, but that's a different conversation.

If you've been reading my blog, you'll know I have stopped taking public classes all together since December 2012. This blog may contain clues as in why I stopped, and it's not entirely because of some asshole guru named John who has no testicles. He might have started it but definitely not the sole reason why I made the decision. But I've never stopped my asana practice. In fact, I now have a much clearer picture of what my practice should be. I joined Spicy Hello Kitty's asana junkie club back in January, and the timing was more perfect than perfect as I decided to focus on personal practice rather than going to public classes. I also went to her workshop in Denver in April and I just did Super Noah's about two weeks ago. Yes, my ass was sore for almost a week.

In the workshop Super Noah talked about many things, which a few really struck a chord in my funny bone. He mentioned deception and false connection, which was ironic because it was the first time I saw a few tired old farts since I stopped taking public classes. Even more ironic was I talked to a few people whom I barely did in the past, and even found common ground with a couple. The tired old farts remain tired and old, and they reminded me of what I wanted to leave behind. So fuck them... gently and respectfully of course.

Super Noah is an awesome yoga and asana (note the distinction) teacher and he always marvelously delivers. I really hope that one day Spicy Hello Kitty and Super Noah will co-teach again. It'll be so amazing! If you are "in the know of yoga", you may ask "what about Poster Boy Dee"? Great question, especially I did that crazy ass new year intensive with the three of them a couple years ago in Tucson. The three of them co-teach again will be EPIC, like the perfect storm or an explosive orgasm that lasts for minutes. They are great on their own and they are just total badass together. They will eventually work out their own dynamics.

A side note to Poster Boy Dee: sometimes you just need to travel beyond the 10-mile radius of Tucson for your fans. It is your dharma, and because you are awesome. Just saying!

Anyway, like I said, I saw a number of tired old farts at Super Noah's workshop. One of them in particular ... well, let's say... did not act appropriately. Ironically, she was the assistant at the workshop and in my opinion, she did everyone a disservice and left a poor taste in my mouth.

Let's give her a name: Miss No-forehead. I suppose I could name her "that ditzy, overly peroxided, self-serving, narcissistic, doughy strawhead named Dandeline Shitstinka". But that would be too unapologetically obvious and of course, I am just too sensitive and kind to overtly reveal her identity. Nope, that ain't me. "Dandeline Shitstinka" does not rhyme with her real name. It does not! Goodness gracious me, I'd never ever call out anyone like that. Never ever! Not even some asshole guru named John who has no testicles. I'm all about shri, compassion, forgetfulness forgiveness and some other shit. And you know what, she is as invasive as dandelion but without the virtues... I don't want to give the plant the bad name.

But I digress... brace yourself, I have a lot of dirt to dish.