Y O G I L I F E S T Y L E
YOGItimes magazine for the modern yogi
Meditation,
Yoga and A Soy Chai Latte, Please
by Matt Omo
From a deep peaceful sleep, my hand darts across the bed and strategically disarms the alarm a moment before the obnoxious screech sends my body into temporary shock. Although it’s not any colder than 65 degrees in my apartment, I wrap my body like an Eskimo with my down comforter before venturing outside the boundary of my bed. My Midwest blood has thinned tremendously from years of pampering in the luxurious L.A. weather. Battling the almost overwhelming pull of the bed’s gravity I manage to slide myself in front of my altar, light a candle and attempt to meditate. I take a breath in and slowly exhale as my mind chatters at nauseating speeds; “I’m too tired, Go back to bed, Skip a day, It’s too cold, Focus on the breath.” After a few minutes of this internal struggle, my mind quiets and my breath flows as I begin to reconnect with spirit. In the silence my body takes the liberty of expressing itself with a “Yes!” signified by my uncontrollable head nod. Somehow between the chatter of my mind, the nodding of my head and the arctic air flowing through my nostrils, I manage to complete thirty minutes of meditation. I open my eyes and cringe as I release the comfort of the blanket and reach for my clothes. Without a minute to spare I grab my yoga mat and keys, heading out into the world. It’s only a quarter after six, which in Los Angeles means very few people are functioning, as can be noted by the lack of traffic on the freeways. This allows me ample time to jet over to the yoga studio.
Before I know it I arrive at the studio, find a great karma parking spot in front, kick off my sandals and begin rolling my mat on the cold hardwood floor. A few committed souls file in decked out in the finest yoga outfits imaginable. I feel a bit underdressed with my hospital scrubs and t-shirt, but quickly remind myself that it’s yoga, which is about gaining self-awareness and surrendering the control of the ego. Finding a moment of non-judgment the instructor begins the class. We slowly fall forward into uttanasana and begin stretching our bodies. I catch myself glancing around the room out of curiosity and realize that, even though this is a level 1-2 class, I am one of the most inflexible people in the room. Although they do have an unfair advantage over me, being that I am the only guy in the room, I don’t hold that against them because yoga isn’t about competition. After a few minutes I manage to find balance in myself and let go of the distractions around me as well as in me. The peace and tranquility of the yoga studio, with the rising sun gleaming off the hardwood floor, helps me to escape the chaotic life I’ve chosen to create in the big city. As we flow through the asanas, I sense a shift in the energy outside. The city is beginning to awaken as the bustle resonates through the windows just as the tranquil sun had moments before. For an instant I glance around the room and realize how amazing it is to have this sacred space where I can find balance before my busy day of chasing after my many dreams. I wonder if the new rage of yoga has been birthed out of our souls’ desire to find balance in the fast paced modern world we’ve created, or if it’s just another fad that is being exploited by corporate America and shoved down our throats? With my mind pondering the deep mysteries of the modern world, my body lies motionless in savasana. I could spend the day lying in this bliss as the world passes me by, however, I am persuaded to roll up into a seated posture. With a quick namaste, the students roll up their yoga mats and stuff them in their designer bags. The pace quickens while slipping on their shoes and rushing into their busy lives like worker ants streaming from an anthill.
Stepping out into the world, with my yoga-high, I am taken aback at how quickly things move. I stroll over to the Coffee Bean around the corner while struggling to regain my focus. Upon entering, I realize I am surrounded by people from all walks of life, wearing anything from yoga attire to business suits. We attempt to wait patiently in line without talking, closed off in our own world, thinking of God-knows-what, looking forward to the “quick fix” to start the day. For a moment I think the girl behind me from the yoga class is saying hello, but I quickly notice the small black wire across her chest connected to her cell phone. In the loneliness of the crowded coffee shop, I am once again brought back to the question I pondered in the yoga studio: Are we really finding balance by practicing meditation and yoga in such a hurried mainstream modern-world-way or is it just another log on the fire of our insatiable need to do, do, do? The cashier snaps me out of my search for wisdom with the familiar, “May I help you?” As if programmed from birth I blurt out, “Large soy chai latte, please.” I reach for the money to pay as my cell phone chirps out its melodic tune signifying the beginning of another balanced, centered, peaceful, enlightened day in the ever-evolving modern world of this city of angels.