You know the feeling. Yoga is a big part of your life. You look to some of your teachers like they’re your own ultra-human guru. You love yoga. You lust yoga. It makes you fierce and strong and gooey all in one deep in-breath.
But one day you wake up and you just don’t want to go to yoga… ever again. Overnight your love has transformed. Yoga is bullshit. And you are done riding the bullshit wagon of legs behind your head and sweet ass lulu gear uniforms. You are done with hands to your heart and “om” on a soft, fluffy cloud. What the hell are you all doing in class on your 50 dollar eco mats with your coco water paying ever growing fees for 75 minutes of entitled escapism?
This feeling lasts for a few days. Maybe a week. Maybe it’s a part of your premenstrual routine. Eventually, after many dark days of separation and martyrdom, you realize it’s not yoga you are pissed at. Sure, there are things you can mock and complain about, but that can happen with any aspect of life. Yoga and you, like any long-term relationship, are bound to get in a few disagreements. You realize the bubble world of escapism only exists if you leave your yoga on that 50 dollar mat or strip if off like those 80 dollar pants. You remember that your t-shirt and sweats work just as good as your designed in Canada lycra blends. Maybe your heart could use a little massage at the end of the day. And just like your loving spouse or kick ass BFF, yoga can hold your anger and wait. Yoga will be there when you get over yourself and choose to do something good for that over thinking mind yours. You can even choose to share a little bit of that good with someone else.
Next time my hormonal cycle screams “pissed at yoga”, I’ll pull on my sweats and pop a downward dog, no matter how much I fight it. I’ll wag that dog and laugh at my misplaced outrage. There are plenty of things to be pissed about. I my heart of hearts, I know that yoga is not one of them.
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