4/26/2018 0 Comments Final Reflection: SMORE!
Here is my Smore! Behold its beauty!
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1/19/2017 0 Comments Robotronic Yoga in a sexy barnOn a cold winter Sunday morning after pounding a pot of coffee, I threw on my yogapants and went online to sign-up for my regular class at Samma Vayama, the only (quasi) yoga studio in my town. However, the interwebz informed me there would be a substitute for my regular kickass instructor, Kristin. So I quickly whored around looking for other yogic possibilities. Luckily, I found a Vinyasa 2 class at a place called Blissful Yoga in the ever-quaint Mullica Hill. I had never been to Blissful Yoga before, but a teacher that I know and trust had just started teaching there (not on this day), and I heard that the space was lovely. So I quickly paid for the class online and jetted down the road with only 5 minutes to spare. First, and I really cannot overstate this fact: the Parking Lot at Blissful Yoga is Award Winning. Seriously, you will not find a parking lot more quaint and lovely. I don't care where you live. Then, when you leave your car you will find that the building is really just as adorable, and is surrounded by other charming little barn-like buildings. So far, blissful. Once you enter, you will find more everything quaint. The space, a refurbished barn, is actually very small, but fortunately there were only 4 students in attendance on this morning (and one showed up 15 minutes late). No problem. More time to harmonize with the space, which can be described as follows: large windows shining natural light on the beautiful hardwood floors. In each corner space heaters, some of which flickered actual fire, provide cozy atmosphere. Overhead beams festooned with white lights and the walls display a combination of Tibetan flags and Christian iconography. I don't normally expect to see Jesus at my yoga studio, but there he was, along with a Mary statue. I do love a Mary! So, Namaste and peace be with you. After I tucked my stuff in the provided cubbies, I was struck with the notion to empty the pre-yoga bladder, as one is want to do after pounding the pot of coffee. I looked around the teeny room, but was informed that the bathroom is actually in a different building and one must be escorted by the key-bearing instructor, scurrying ahead of me. Her pace not quite frantic, but I was definitely picking up a vibe. While the bathroom in a yoga studio may not seem relevant, I would like to offer that this one was a skosh disappointing. I discovered one potential for charm in the fancy soap dispenser-from-the-beauty-section-of-Marshalls, but the charm quickly dissipated when the pump dispenser came up empty. Back in the barnspace with semi-clean hands, the instructor was beginning in the familiar yogic suggestion to "find a comfortable seat." Please allow me to say at this point that I was a little nervous about the Vinyasa 2 situation. While I admittedly do have many years of yoga experience and I can strike a pose as it were. I wasn't sure what to expect. Cirque du Soleil style trickery? a Forearm stand into a backbend? At the very least I thought that in an hour and fifteen minute level 2 class, we might DIVE RIGHT IN. But no, we actually sat on the floor and sat and then sat some more. Very Gentle Stretches seemed to stretch on for what seemed like an age. Plus, the instructor, Sylvia (let's call her), bless her heart, committed some of THE worst crimes against yoga. Please allow me to elaborate. But wait. Before I spill, I would like to preface my critique by sharing that I understand this act of writing may come off as decidedly unyogic and just plain mean. I get that. I thought about it a LOT as I was gazing out of the lovely windows, cultivating my drishti in the barn. To Sylvia, if you ever get the chance to read this post, to you I want to say Namaste and Ahimsa! I mean you no harm. Just maybe try a little harder to just be a person. Connect. Be present to the profound beauty happening. It is, in my humble opinion, what matters most, especially in a yoga class. And, I will hand it to Sylvia, for all her instructorly faults, of which they are many, I am grateful, because it was in Sylvia's class that I discovered my true inner yogawhore. Meanwhile, back to Vinyasa 2. After the extended gentle stretches, we moved to the familiar-and-quite-detested Table position. I'm not sure Table qualifies as an actual yoga pose. What's more, instructors who like to spend a lot of time in Table are not my favorite. Sadly, Table was followed by decidedly unyogic workout-y REPETITIONS of taking our knee up around our ear and holding it there. More REPS. Ugh. Listen, people, Reps are not yoga! How many times do I have to scream this inside my mind? Finally we move to our Down Dogs. Progress! But Sylvia wanted us to be in these dogs for what what may-not-have-been an eternity, but it was damn near close. When we finally got to a Warrior pose, I had all but given up that we would ever move past the DOG. There was minimal flow. Finally a Warror 1, followed by a Natarajasana. I would like to note at this point that the sun came out during Natarajasana in a way that illuminated the barn. That alone was almost worth the $15 drop-in rate. I mean seriously, the space is chi-ful. But the one aspect of this class that yogawhore could not abide was the incessant DRONE of Sylvia's voice. You know the one. You've heard it before. The undeniable sound of: Robotronic Yoga Voice. In this case, the drone is inflected with a south Jersey accent, which somehow makes it all seem rather chastising and scoldish. Nothing against the Jerz. I love you Jersey people. But maybe, you know. Knock it off! Sylvia literally commanded my every single inhale and exhale. EVERY.SINGLE.BREATHE. The constant commands to BREATHE literally SUPPRESSING me. But here's my one request of Sylvia: girl needs to figure out how to NOT have every sentence end with exactly the same rise and fall of her tone. It literally hurt me. I would have preferred a yoga video on the Youtubes. I would have preferred needles in eyes. And it went on and on. It wasn't until sometime at the very end, coming out of savasana that Sylvia actually sounded like a human being, because otherwise she was simply Yoga Robot Instructor from Hell. PS: there were NO inversions at all in this Vinyasa 2 class. Not a one. After a pathetic ohm, I was the first person out the door, which is unusual for me. I tend to enjoy basking in my yoga glow, taking my time to roll up the mat, soaking in my bliss. But Sylvia was striking up a conversation with 15-minute-late-lady, who it turns out is her friend (15 minute late lady's T-shirt said "Mrs." which standing next to the picture of Jesus, caused a kind of fight or flight. I fled.). Back out in the gorgeous parking lot, a nearby restaurant was cooking bacon, and I noted another barn that advertised French baked goods
So yes, there is bliss to be found at Blissful Yoga, but I'm afraid it is not necessarily available in the instruction of yoga. So I yogawhore on. |
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