swami mommy, or how yoga helped me fold time, space and laundry

been branching out, exploring broader horizons of physical activity. yoga over the last month has proved a long overdue reset. and not only has my flexibility improved enormously, my concentration and focus are coming along nicely as well. every other day i toil for 90 minutes in a room heated to 105 deg fahrenheit along with 20-30 other folks, many of whom appear to be chinese gymnasts and carnival contortionists, twisting, folding and origami-ing themselves past the point of discomfort. and we are all jubilant in the doing of it. i don't know a lot about jim jones other than what powers boothe portrayed in the guyana tragedy on screen, but there is without a doubt a cult like zealotry among this group. i say this yet here i am suited up for my noon class, not wanting to miss my session. sure, i bought the groupon and saved oodles of cash for the month, but at the same time, i must admit to the strange and captivating allure of this new thing.

the studio instructors give verbal commands with madonna blonde ambition tour head set mics as the class executes each pose and posture in perfect unison. "ackkowledge your practice", "have awareness of x,y,z...", "be present in your focus" - all these things said in a sort of sing-song calm and low tone . if i were riding my bike for an hour and a half, i'd drink a couple bottles of water, in class you are permitted to drink after the 3rd posture and then between postures after that, but until that point, you are to refrain. first drink is referred to as "party time". that's pretty ascetic in my book, but i kind of dig the restraint and discipline required.

the objections are many to overcome -- for instance exercising for an extended period of time in a super heated room. thankfully, there is no sun blazing down, but i cannot help but think doing a full bikram class in the middle of the sonora would not feel much different. within the first 5 minutes of class, every thread of clothing, every square cm of skin is drenched. from then on, tiny rivulets of sweat trickle down your often quivering legs, past your locked knee and into the puddle on your supersaturated beach towel. perspiration cascades off your forehead running into your eyes. in the inverted postures, it drips into your nostrils. supine poses cause sweat to dribble into your ears. every crack and crevice, nook and cranny is well lubricated with sweat.

although it feels like a "clean sweat", do not be fooled. this sweat stinks. i get to smell the beer and brats my mt neighbor may have had over the weekend. if you consider the skin is the largest organ of the human body, that much elimination over such an extended period really adds up. we expel so many toxins through sweat and that waste excreted via our integumentary system is liquid trash, plain and simple. now, heat all that to 105 degrees in a closed area and it makes for an incredibly funk-eee, malodorous environment. part of my concentration is dedicated to ignoring or somehow getting past that olfactory assault each class.