Call me old fashioned but I am starting to miss the ‘old days’ of yoga where the space was seen as a sacred space. A clean space. A space that was different from the rest of the chaos of our lives. A quiet space. A space to retreat.
So you can understand my growing concern about the objects I am, with increasing frequency finding in yoga classes.
Just the other day I was deep in my practice, in a public class, when a cell phone screen lit up next to me with an incoming text. The phone belonged to a fellow yoga student who, from her downward facing dog literally read the incoming text message.
I was torn between the yogic equilibrium I was trying to maintain and dramatically rolling my eyes, sighing heavily and making my disdain and annoyance clearly visible (I’ve learnt how to do this with much success from the Germans). Never mind the radiation or radio waves or whatever fucking signals are transmitting next to me while I am trying to channel and transmit only pure and healthy energy, Yoga is the one place I want to not see a screen, the one place I’ve chosen to be where I’m not reminded of my own to do lists and people needing stuff lists, the one place I’ve chosen to detach from my own somewhat unhealthy (but essential) relationship with my phone. Come on, do I even need to say it? Phone in the yoga room is just a no. On or off. Well, if it’s off, then what’s the point? Talk about unhealthy attachment. It’s like its mere presence is enough wtf?
The yoga space is also traditionally a no shoes area. Hell, my own apartment is a no shoes area. This makes total sense to me, both from an energetic perspective (ergo yucky, black street goop energy) and from a cleanliness perspective. It’s also quiet when people walk barefoot. All round no shoes is a bloody good idea. So you can again, imagine my surprise, this time while I was teaching, when I happened across a pair of beach sandals lying, albeit neatly, next to a person’s yoga mat.
Another student had a fruit juice – yes, a fruit juice next to her mat, along with a hair brush! A hair brush. What’s next? A facial mask and curling iron?
At the risk of sounding like a complaining killjoy, oh what the hell, I’m going to be 40 this year, let’s just say I’ve slipped into being old fashioned, and I’m fine with that. But I ask, can we please bring back the quiet, clean, and stuff -free feeling of the yoga space?
Oh, and another thing, ladies,,, your pants are more see-through than you realise. Seriously. Before you buy a pair –regardless of the expensive brand name, bend over in the mirror and ask a good friend to tell you what they see.
Unless you don’t care, in which case, more power to you. But if you don’t want your yoga teacher being able to tell the approximate date of your last bikini wax, I suggest checking in the mirror before checking out of the store. – I can give you a list of brands If you like.
Peace out, that’s my yoga moan for the day.
I’m going to do a self practice now because it’s a clean, clear, quiet space – at least there’s still that.