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First taste of the Asana Kitchen

My alarm goes off (Bruno Mars) at 645, 445 my time.  I say my morning prayer hop out of my top bunk and get myself organized for day one Mysore.  Yippee!

 The studio is old, painted pink, and blue and it's stifling hot.  David and his wife arrive looking slim with bright eyed.  They tell us to head in and begin practice. The stoke is high.

 I place my mat second row, in front of the window so if a cool breeze comes she'll kiss me. There are pictures of Patabhis, and gods and goddesses everywhere. I notice the floor boards beneath my mat are asymmetric and creaky. I decide to roll with it because "yoga is not suppose to be comfortable" 🙄After my second salute it appears it is raining in the room but no, that's sweat.  I DON'T SWEAT but I am sweating 😅..  For a moment I shudder and then remember to go in. The girl behind me is practicing third and has bizarre tattoos on her body, again I remind myself to go in.

 At the end of my second sun salute David has noticed me and I am not his favourite.  Erin don't do that, Erin elbows in, Erin relax, Erin why are you doing that.  I know I've come so far because in the past that might have upset me.

 During Pasana he seems supremely irritated at my tight rib cage that won't twist. All I can smell is my nasty deodorant that smells like cherrys 🍒 why would anyone want to have armpits that smell like cherries. 

I manage to sneak through second without being noticed.  I snuggle my way into Shavasana thinking 💭 "ok, that wasn't so bad" until I hear "Erin, drop backs. Now".  Gahhhh but I was in corpse pose David, you know, dying so i could be reborn???  I hop up like a dog who's owner says let's go for a walk.  My mat is like a slip and slide as I don't have a carpet like everyone else cause I don't sweat....  I'm too scared to say anything so I do as he says. He doesn't even watch.  I finished 5 and then bow out.

 I lie drenched in my sweat.  I drift between wake and sleep.  I ponder the point of this intense practice. A dear friend once commented that all the ashtangi's are a bit off.  He's right, they are, and so am I. The intensity junkies dig this practice cause it's creates a cessation of the chronic thinking, planning, judging.  It's just me, my cherry deodorant, and this meat suit I experience the world in. I've been told I have too much energy.  My practice is my ridiline, my Valium.  My practice is my doorway to peace.





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