I attended a class the other day. It went something like this...
I'm nervous. Immediately, they want me to take off my shoes and leave them in Kindergarten like cubbyholes. My shoes suddenly become my security blanket. I'm hesitant. What if shoe bandits abound? Normally, I prefer to be barefoot.
The room is quiet, dark, and text book tranquil. Figuring out where to place my mat is like trying to pick out the right lunch table the first day of junior high. I don't know better, so I have a suitcase sized bag of my belongings. Every time I move, straps and blocks and keys fall out of the bag and echo through the room when they hit the floor.
When I finally settle down, I don't know what to do with myself. Everyone around had their eyes closed, meditating. I nervously fidget and want to ask everyone a million questions of what is expected. To pass the time, I furiously scroll through my Twitter feed, trying to stock pile a few minutes of self-deprecating snarkiness before it is quiet time. I tweet a bunch of random stuff which ends up with misspelled and mistyped words that make almost every tweet non-sensible (sorry guys!).
When the instructor comes in, she tells us do what feels right for us. Right. I’ve been trained to do what is expected, I have no idea how to feel what is right anymore, which makes me realize just how much I need this.
The music is killing me: Sarah McLachlan, chanting, chimes, flutes, Native American drums, and James Taylor. Is there a class somewhere that does this to The Smiths? Please? In any other situation, I would have found a way to take over the stereo.
The instructor tells us to quiet our minds and focus on our breathing. Sure. All I can focus on is the lady across the room breathing so loudly that I wonder if she has an oxygen machine. I think about everything that I want to include in this blog post. I realize that I am failing at the whole point of this, so I try my best to focus on my breathing and keep my eyes closed. I am certain that I have attention deficit disorder.
The stretching feels good. I relax a bit. Maybe I'm not too bad at this. I look around the room to compare my stretch to everyone else. I’m definitely not the worst one, but I still feel the need to push the stretch further just to see what happens. Ouch, damn. I might be a little too competitive for this.
The teacher helps us get into this crazy, pretzel-like backbend. It feels good and when it’s difficult, I am finally fully focused. The lady beside me lets out the longest, most ridiculous fart. It sounds more like a shart and I instinctively hold my breath and try not to laugh. No else one laughs or flinches. I waver, trying not to laugh and stumble out of my pose. Lucky for me, my body is so tangled, it just looks like a symptom of my horrible balance.
By the end of class, my muscles are twitchy and warm. The final meditation is peaceful. No one is practicing their lamaze techniques across the room and I’m proud of making it through the class.
I think the goal is to leave class peaceful, but I can’t wait to get to my car and scream along to Do The Evolution. I wonder if my overactive brain is more suited for kickboxing. It always seems like when I punish my body, I can get out of my head. But no, I want to try this. The amount of apprehension proves that it could do me good. I’m going to try this for a while and see where it leads me... even if it just leads me to more snarky posts.