Yoga

Note to self: Stop suggesting Yoga to people and be mindful of your own business.

If you have been told recently that you should try Yoga, or are thinking of adding it to your New Year’s resolutions, then let me impart some insight from teaching five classes a week over the last three years.

You are being lured into a trap. Those who practice it love to espouse its virtues. Yoga will cure your arthritis; it stops the aging process; it will get you a boyfriend. These are just some of the lies being bandied about.

Yoga is not the panacea you believe it to be.

However, I have seen a dude learn to suck his own toes, but that still didn’t get him a boyfriend.

Let me explain.

Yoga is a complete spiritual philosophy that we know completely nothing about. One element of the eight limbs are the stretches: the Down Dog, the Child’s Pose, the clichés.

Yoga’s history is long—some say 5,000 years—very Indian, and rooted in conflict, surprisingly. You will not attain any understanding by attending a class at your local gym.

The best you can hope for is a teacher who has studied Hatha for 200 hours and will guide you through some of the Asanas. No doubt she will complicate the interpretation so much so that she ends up with a unique, branded, freelance business that you, for some reason, just can’t get enough of.

You should have just minded your own business.

But since you’re here, let me set the scene of what to expect from your first class.

Have you ever heard the amplified sound of a flute, a wooden flute in particular, powered by breath, an exhale to be more specific? Listen along here.

While blowing is a form of breath work and breath work is meditation, Pranayama blows it’s own trumpet. Pranayama, which to the best of my knowledge, is an ancient Indian practice of concentration on breath, with slight manipulation to keep things interesting, and nothing to do with bitey fish from the Amazon. Pranayama/ Meditation is a classic start to any Yoga class.

So yes you’re right, smoking a cigarette is a form of breath work, playing a wind instrument is also a form of Pranayama, as long as your breathing. Unless you count my arse, I don’t play any wind instruments, I wasn’t raised like that but at the local university gym where I teach, it does have a decent sound system that transmits the exact vibe I’m into at that time of day.

Today, I am DJ Multiple Khumjung.

The double doors to Studio 1 stay propped open until 10:30 a.m. when class starts. I arrive at 10:00 a.m. and light some incense on the sly so as not to upset the smoke detectors. One of the young sports assistants helps me distribute the dojo mats around the room that have been left courtesy of the MMA society. They are about 50 times heavier than a regular yoga mat and triple the thickness—nice and easy on the knees. I set my mat up perpendicular to everyone else’s, with a spritz for my pits, two yoga blocks, and my microphone at hand.

When you enter, your two blocks have been placed at the front of your mat, either by Paul, a regular, or another helping hand. After you’re seated, you notice your back is to the door, the mirrors are unobtrusively to your right, and a large TV is at the front.

Today, it’s cold, so fire burns with a low cackle on a no-ads YouTube video screensaver. Its psychosomatic effects encourage you to consider taking those socks off. The calming aroma of frankincense drifts slowly past.

You are surrounded by mostly 19-year-old women with their socks on, with the odd old-timer, usually academic staff from the university, starfishing on their backs, very comfortable in their own skin.

I allay the tension by suggesting you get comfortable, whichever way that feels, and prepare for body stillness.

The soft sound of muted Indian instruments vibrates you into relaxation.

While Spotify undresses your senses, we warm up the neck and upper body in seated stretches.

“Syncopate your movement with your breath”.

You hear this several times throughout your practice and start to let go of what you look like and open up to how good it feels. She harps on several times about not comparing yourself to anyone else and,

“to find your own flow”.

You go inward, lost in movement, that is until she moves from her little island at the front of the class. She has gone rogue, touching and pushing on people’s bums in Down Dog. You panic as she comes closer to you, pulling your arm up towards the heavens in Trikonasana. The relief when she moves back to her pen hits you in your gastric system, and you let out a silent guff.

The mats, of which there are around 25, are randomly scattered at least 2 metres from each other, allowing you to feel reassured that the aroma will be well-mingled with the incense before it punches its way into your neighbour’s nostrils.

Things begin to complicate as your shoulder is now supposed to go under your right thigh in Bird of Paradise. Reassuringly, no one else seems keen to try that, not that you are comparing, so you take the opportunity to stand up and sip your water. The sound of the plastic bottle punctuates the calm, so you quickly get back down under your leg before she notices your single use shamefulness.

In a rather abrupt fashion, the sound from Studio 2’s HIIT class now adds a bass line to your heartbeat as you catch your breath in Child’s Pose. She dims the lights, and you are all too soon on your back in Shavasana. You notice a few folks getting a spritz and a shoulder massage from the instructor, and she instructs you to relax your tongue from the roof of your mouth and embrace your double chin. You obey, and in exactly five minutes, you are softly challenged (one of the many unnecessary adverbs you hear) to keep your eyes closed while making your way back to a seated position, the direction in which you end up facing, completely inconsequential. You hate surprises, so peak and adjust accordingly.

To conclude your practice she opts for Lion’s Breath, another Pranayama that involves inhaling through the nose and exhaling out the mouth with the tongue extruded, three times. You snigger on the first one, feel the vulnerability of your tongue by the second and then let it roar for the third.

Now open your eyes and web browser and subscribe to my Youtube channel, where I hope you can join me for one of my upcoming live stream classes.