It has been extremely difficult this week since my arch-nemesis has not appeared in Bikram at all.
And frankly, this is her most nefarious plot yet to drive me mad (although she could just be on an August vacation.)
Today, however, I decided to take matters into my own hands (sorta) and extensively explored the idea of making an enemy of my own. There’s this dude who comes quite rarely –– and people who know him find him fun and charming after class –– but he is basically IN ORBIT, doing whatever he wants and acting like a low-key lunatic. Manic workout in the heat before class (tons of push-ups and ab work) and then during class he can maybe do like 40%, mostly just randomly starting and giving up mid-pose whenever he feels like it, and lunging for water or springing into some alternative stretch. It really is distracting, and doubly so in a class as formalized and regimented as Bikram.
It’s sorta like he arrived at a Japanese tea ceremony with a picnic basket full of barbecue and just began noshing oblivious to everyone else around him.
Of course, this is the ultimate yoga test –– the boorish person driving you crazy as you’re trying to practice –– and I, more or less, passed in that I avoided asking him during class if he were high as a kite (which I think might very well be possible).
In other news, this is an interesting day for me in that August 5th is the 2nd year anniversary of “my worst day ever” –– truly –– and although I can tell the story and make it hilariously funny, you’re going to have to trust me on that because I’ve made a vow last year not to tell it any more. In fact, some of my closest friends since that time, don’t even know about it –– although I will share if pressed –– because I’ve taken it out of my repertoire.
One thing about that story that’s striking, is that it’s entirely ABOUT the power of story. Meaning that I wrote out and visualized and put a lot of energy into projecting the worst possible outcome … and then it manifested in flamboyant and insane ways.
Nothing that wasn’t solved 24 hours later without too many scars, but an incredible reminder that you get what you think about, whether you want it or not.
And so, in honor of my second anniversary of My Worst Day Ever, I’m going to actively practice telling a new story about a few things. I haven’t decided yet –– I have and hour and forty minutes before the day is over –- but I’m thinking of setting a goal of re-telling something I want to shift X number of times (be it in writing or in conversation, or maybe even in visual art.) It will be interesting to see what happens when I adjust my internal and external conversations about a “difficult” topic.
And thus, I probably should delete the entire first five paragraphs of this blog –– but technically, I haven’t officially started yet.
[And just for fun, this is not about an inappropriate student but inappropriate teacher –– fair is fair –– and Johnny Depp is hilarious in it.)
Enjoy!
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