#undeadyoga

[catallenyoga]

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Today’s sequence: Start in Savasana Face Down. Then pull yourself forward like a leg-less zombie lusting for brains. Pike up like a failed gymnast zombie and then transform into an undead firefly. Happy Tuesday, everyone. Make sure you clean the floor before doing Savasana face down. #liftyourass #zombiepress #undeadyoga #forrestyoga (at Four Dragons Institute) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuE6OLXg621/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=q80c895wy7i0

[attenuatedsuperlative]

The Perils of Peristalsis

As yoga class kicked off the audible sounds of stomach rumbles and digestive processes depressed and horrified all those in attendance, none more so than the yoga teacher who strived to create a class of solemn peace, inclusivity and interconnectedness but now was so thoroughly disgusted that, unable to immediately identify the individual responsible, she roundly castigated the class “You have RUINED the sacred energies running up and down the sacri and pelvi, I cannot tell you how long this nauseating reminder of our body’s inner functionings will continue to demoralize me and the rest of the class but it will be measured in months, not weeks. You are welcome here no more demon!”

Shamed, I slowly rose and rolled up my mat, the hot glares falling upon me on all sides, conscious of so many minds simultaneously and unprompted by anything else but my filthy digestive works imagining my spontaneous human combustion, and suddenly another soft but clearly audible sizzle ripped across the room destroying any semblance of inner peace and meditation anyone might have found as my digestive acids at work and my stomach muscles kneading in and out in a reflexive rippling as they worked the food particles into their constituent molecular units and smaller still, and every other yoga student present, young, old, male, but mostly female, ugly and cute, well-toned, beautiful and accomplished as well as whining, chubby and confused, they all began hissing at me with curled lips and angry expressions, and the mob sentiment which was unleashed was unmistakable and I grew concerned for my continued safety.

Nevertheless I continued my normal routines when departing from yoga including placing my yoga bricks neatly in the stack by the altar at the side of the room, placing the weird long side pillow thing in its stack, neatly folding and placing the blanket in the stack with other blankets when much to my dismay again a denuding and enervating crinkling or sizzling or prickling sensation ran through my stomach and lower organs and bowels, and the accompanying sounds filled the room, overpowering the sounds of the singing bowl and the gong which the yoga teacher had begun frantically beating in hopes of drowning out my unbecoming, unseemly, and deeply intolerant sounds which threatened to destroy the very basis for yoga in our civilization and all others, overpowering the strident and angry mutterings and asides of disgruntled disgusted and disenchanted yogic students, overpowering the reflexive namastes and audible sighs on all sides, until overcome by a mounting rage the class gave up trying to ignore me and turned their withering full attentions on me, flinging bricks at me which went whistling by my ears and knees, hisses and lion’s breaths turning into full-throated yowls of wrath, downward facing tigers and low cobras looming at all sides, straps whipping and stinging my feet and ankles, and a bloodthirsty screaming arose harpy-like on all sides, the instructor and classmates now rising from their mats to give immediate satisfaction to the undeniable urge to destroy utterly the source of these unforgiveable sounds.

The room grew dark as ancient yogi spirits answered sacred summonses from the besieged yoga instructor to come fight the last final fight of spirituality versus carnality (which fight naturally would seek to eliminate such platitudinous binaries and false dichotomies) and they whisped around in ever increasing tornadoes of pure prana, evil laughter and backwards-audio voices chilling me as I picked up my water bottle and fled, vowing never again to eat a peanut butter sandwich an hour before yoga class.