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.

Rewind...

I've known Miss No-forehead for many years. She invited herself to a number of my yoga trips before the meltdown of the 3A yoga inc. When you travel with someone, you learn a lot about that person particularly when you share accommodation. What I learned about Miss No-forehead was not pretty. In 2011 a few of us from Calgary went to the advanced intensive by some asshole guru named John who has no testicles in Miami. Naturally Miss No-forehead invited herself, which was slightly irritating but still tolerable back then. We shared the same hotel. But whatever, Sarcastic Yogi is tough! I can handle all kinds of bitches, even when Miss No-forehead decided to make everyone wait to go to the beach because she wanted to take a shower. Yup, Miss No-forehead wanted to take a shower before she dipped herself in salt water and made everyone wait for her. Everyone turned a blind eye on this not unforgivable yet annoying selfish act.

The Catastrophizer was in the party as well. So of course there was drama, and this time it was in the form of a car accident. When we found out The Catastrophizer was in a car crash, all of us, with the exception of Miss No-forehead, wanted to rush to the hospital to give her some moral support, especially when we were in foreign land with an injured team mate.

Miss No-forehead, other the hand, said these exact words:
I can't deal with this. I am going to my room.

Bitch, say what!?

At the end Miss No-forehead did come to the hospital with us. On our way back to the hotel, Miss N-forehead uttered these loving words, which were the complete opposite of her true feelings, to The Catastrophizer:  
Of course I want to be here with you! We'll support you in any way!

I almost threw up.

Fast forward...

Miss No-forehead's true colour of an opportunistic hypocrite became more obvious over time. I have witnessed many of Miss No-forehead's many narcissistic, self-serving acts but I never called her out. Since the trip to Miami I've kept my distance from Miss No-forehead. That's my way of being civil without being phoney or creating more yoga drama. I am all for harmony, and I can't fathom how some can talk to the people they don't want to, as my idiot coworker suggested.

Fast forward some more...

Super Noah's workshop was the first time I saw Miss No-forehead in over a year. What a difference a year made. It was entertaining to watch Miss No-forehead work the room as if it were her own workshop. It was even more entertaining when Miss No-forehead constantly hovered around me and tried to get my acknowledgement. The worst thing you can do to a narcissist is not paying him/her attention. Miss No-forehead even stood in front of me and stared at me right in my eyes while I was trying to not tip over in Vrksasana. After many failed attempts to get my attention, she forced a physical adjustment on me which I neither needed nor wanted. I felt so violated but not in a happy way, and by a very ugly woman.

Miss No-forehead continued her fine demonstration of inappropriate behaviours in a classroom and as a yoga teacher. When someone asked Super Noah a question about wrist pain in handstand, Miss No-forehead practically snatched the mircophone from Super Noah and offered her uninvited opinion to everyone in the workshop. Kudos to Super Noah for remaining calm and unphased by such a rude invasion from a ditzy, overly peroxided, self-serving, opportunistic, narcissistic, doughy strawhead.

Imagine how nauseating it was to see Miss No-forehead acting like a ditzy groupie and repeatedly interrupting the workshop with her crazy laughs, and giving adjustment LOUDLY while Super Noah was speaking. It was so disrespectful to Super Noah and everyone else at the workshop. We came to the workshop to learn from Super Noah, NOT to be annoyed by Miss No-forehead's tacky and opportunistic act of self promotion. And what's with that overly peroxided strawhead look? Seriously, bitch, when your age exceeds your bra size, it's time to act accordingly.

Fast forward slightly...

I had never publicly said a thing about Miss No-forehead's ugly true colours until now. I honestly would continue to keep my mouth shut if I didn't see yet another display of her opportunistic, self-promoting act, AND if I didn't hear comments like "Oh Dandelion, you are so sweet and great!".

BARF!

I gotta say something.

Fast forward some more...

Life is like a big sticky mat: what you experience in a yoga practice is also lesson in life. How one behaves in a class is a reflection of his/her true colours. It's an oldie but a goodie.

Miss No-forehead is not only an auspicious display of how NOT to behave on and off the yoga mat, but also an auspicious manifestation of the "Ex-lax of yoga".

Ex-lax is not some sinfully delicious chocolate that you give to your loved ones on Valentine's day, unless you are trying to tell your loved ones that he/she looks constipated. Ex-lax is a laxative coated in cheap waxy chocolate. You take Ex-lax because you have an "irregular problem", not because you have a romantic craving for some vaseline-based chocolate. The chocolate coating is a deception and a false connection to what Ex-lax actually does.

Kind of like how Miss No-forehead tries to be all love and light on the outside and what she conceals will make you more than shit your pants.

Why is it so important to be acknowledged by all yogis and purposely be the freak of a freak show, or worse yet, try to be the freak in someone else's show? Why does Miss No-forehead commit all the freakish grandstanding acts in the disguise of love and light? Actually, why do some many in the yoga community commit freakish grandstanding acts in the disguise of love and light?

Don't do all your freakish grandstanding acts under the cloak of your fake ditzy sweetness. Eventually your fake ditzy sweetness will induce explosive bowel movement in everyone like Ex-lax does. And eventually, everyone will spot the wolf in sheep's clothing. No amount of cheap waxy chocolate is sweet enough to conceal the ugliness within.

Once in a while, let chocolate be chocolate and laxative be laxative. Be a bare naked but honest asshole.

So there I was, at Super Noah's workshop, in a room full of deception and false connection. I chose not to be in the party of Ex-lax and I did not feel lonely at all. I felt liberated.