Yikes. It”™s 6:15 and I”™m going to be late for yoga! I”™ve schlepped to the beach all the way from Hollywood battling 45 minutes of traffic only to circle continuously in a futile attempt to find parking. Ack, I see the line now and it”™s HUGE. Will I get a spot?
Every week it”™s the same story, LA”™s most spiritual beings congregate in one place to heal our bodies, calm our minds and open our hearts”¦ but first, we turn into aggressive freaks vying for 12 square feet of space on which to place our sticky mats. Talk about a Prana paradox.
“I”™m sorry, no room here” says that girl whose name I can”™t remember from that TV show that got cancelled (Karma baby!). Hmmm, will cute hippie tattoo boy make room? Score! Thank Buddha I”™ve made it. Now I can relax, focus and breathe”¦. long deep inhales through the nose”¦. inhale”¦ exhale”¦ inhale”¦
Oy. What is that smell? Someone in my row has not yet been advised that yoga mats are, in fact, washable. I look around to check out the prospective offenders ”“ who could it be? Since we”™ve been holding this pose for way too long anyway I get up for a “water refill” to investigate further.
I still haven”™t figured out the appropriate etiquette for walking on other people”™s mats. If nobody sees me, did it really happen? The teacher”™s saintly feet are obviously okay but what about the rest of us mere mortals? As I ponder this pressing issue, I step directly into a puddle of sweat. Gnarly. I walk back on my neighbor”™s mat to wipe off my freshly manicured feet and it occurs to me ”“ am I giving him back his sweat or sharing with him some of my own? Or maybe it”™s not even a question of “his” or “mine,” but rather, a reminder of our Oneness and commonality.
Wow. I love yoga. It never fails to bring new insights to my life. Joining together with all these groovy people in becoming more loving, accepting and generous humans is what it”™s all about. Not to mention sharing our amazing energy with each other ”¦and maybe even a little bit of space!
Om Shanti & Infinite gratitude,