I recently read an article, "Signs your yoga practice is no longer your own."* What the eff does that even mean? Lululemon has put on your skin like a meat-sack and is currently forcing your downward dog? (If this has actually happened to you, please contact me, that is some seriously cutting-edge marketing and I want in.)
Yogis, you are not evil for wanting your fancy mat. It is correct that you don't NEED it. I don't need a chocolate cookie for breakfast either, but I sure do prefer it. I am happy for the yogis that practice on dirt in robes made by hand from recycled dryer lint. I am not there yet and that's okay.
Yogis, you are not evil for wanting your toosh off your thighs. If I am concerned about my hypothetical ginormous floppy ass right now, that's okay. I hope to move past it, but maybe I will remain fixated on it for the duration. I'll do my best to ignore my ass obsession if everyone else does too.
Yogis, you are not a bad yogi for pushing yourself to go to yoga. I have read so many, "don't force yourself to go to class. If your body doesn't want it, don't." My body wants donuts. Lots of them. And once my body gets the donuts it hates me for letting it have the donut. It reacts to yoga in the exact opposite way. I will stop 'pushing my body to go to class' when I get my hands on that Lululemon meat-sack trick. I will wear other blogresses' carcases like a cape and joyfully skip into yoga each day. Until that day, don't make me feel guilty for forcing myself into the room.
We're not always going to walk into the room a mirror image of Gandhi and that's okay. Your yoga practice is your practice, not Gandhi's. Unless you are wearing him like a meat-sack.
|I didn't draw anything for this post so here's a drawing I did of Thor fighting Ice Giants instead.|
* I want to give citation but I can't find the damn thing.