“Now let the tension out through your mouth: Haaaaaaaaa…” my yoga teacher cooed.
It’s a little strange for me to let loose and groan like that in a room full of strangers–especially when I’m in one of those vulnerable, compromising poses like downward-facing dog, with my head 2 inches from the ground and my bum stuck in the air like a baboon in heat. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and sighed quietly, trying to relax.
Then, across the room, I heard a wail: “HAAAAAAAAAAA OH YEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!”
Apparently, not everyone has trouble relaxing in a room full of strangers.
I tried to ignore it, but it just got worse.
“OOOOH YEAAAHH…HAHHHHH!”
Was I on the set of a naughty movie? I was starting to feel a little uneasy.
Okay, so some people get into it–and while I have been known to get into the yoga groove myself, I always remain conscious of the fact that there is a complete sweaty stranger mere inches from my mat, which always keeps me from 1) groaning, 2) farting, and 3) falling asleep during the final relaxation pose. True, this class was called “hot yoga,” in which the room is heated to above 100 degrees in order to assist the elasticity of the muscles, but some students were taking the idea a little too far.
I realize that yoga is more than exercise for many people; it is indeed a spiritual experience. But I really doubt you’re seeing God during the Monday night yoga session at the 13th Street Crunch Fitness. I was starting to wonder if this person was seeking spiritual clarity, or just attention.
The noise from said student(s) became so distracting that the teacher finally verbally acknowledged it: “Wow, that sounds like a goooooood time over there,” she tactfully joked, eliciting a few scattered chuckles. Hint hint, I thought.
I would hate to be the teacher in this situation, really. How awkward (and hypocritical of a yoga practitioner) would it be to say, “Hey, stop feeling so good!” or, “Could you keep your O-face to yourself please? Thanks.”
Actually I take that back, that would probably feel pretty good.
