Wednesday, November 11, 2009

The Not-So-Chi of Me

I am a yoga devotee.  It is one of my oh-so-favorite things in this world.  The calming music, the bendy poses, the challenging balances, and shavasana (the relaxation part at the end) are my idea of a perfect workout while also nurturing my sometimes frazzled soul.  In a good week, I attend thrice, keeping my chakras all in line with the added benefit of maintaining my weight (not to be confused with losing weight, which I’m hoping to accomplish someday, but just maintaining which is all I can handle for now, apparently).

So having said all that you can see how the events which unfolded this Monday evening after my peaceful yoga meditation and relaxation, which if you go to my yoga practice involves being covered with a kikoy and a having a scented eye pillow placed gently over your tired peepers, may have more than ticked this yogi right off.

First, immediately following practice which ends at around 7:45pm, I was forced to wait in my car which was blocked by a very inconsiderate fellow yogini.  I don’t mind a minute or two, but come on, lady.  Get your rear in gear and let’s boogie.  It’s late.  I’m tired and hungry, and you are totally ruining this Om wave I was planning to ride all the way home.  Ten minutes later, I was out of the lot and on my way to the supermarket where I just need to run in and grab some ham and pesto for dinner. 

Of course, there were 3 employees standing behind the butcher’s counter, but none of them could possibly get the ham I requested.  They yelled for the appropriate member of staff who was assigned cooked ham cutting for the evening.  Miss Ham Cutter proceeded to take her sweet time, cutting a few slices, and weighing the allotments about 5 times before reaching the 300 grams I had asked for.  Then the packaging process began: the proper paper was found, painfully and slowly wrapped around the ham.  Next came the issue of finding a bag to put the wrapped ham in.  Finally, there was printing the price tag which then needed tapping to the bag.  Each step was excruciating and by this point, all effects of my yoga meditation had evaporated like water off my skin on a scorching summer day, leaving me feeling parched and burnt.

With ham in hand I was on the home stretch of my drive, at the top of a hill where the road dips into a valley and back up again on the other side.  To my dismay, the valley was filled with red taillights crawling bit by bit to their respective destinations.  It would take longer than I had expected, but at least it was moving, and I did have the lovely company of Els, so I tried to recapture some positive energy for the remainder of the commute.

As a car was slowly exiting the long line of traffic to make a right turn, a reckless and impossibly selfish taxi (minibus used for public transportation) came flying past the queue, on the wrong side of the road, paying no attention, and smashing into the side of the unsuspecting motorists, forcing the car into the vehicle in front of it and pushing a boda (motorcyclist) in to a very deep ditch.  At this point I may have yelled a few choice words at the taxi driver, words that should never escape the lips of a practicing yogi.  The accident occurred a mere 2 vehicles in front of where we waited in the Rav4.  Thankfully no one appeared to be hurt, but there was arguing between drivers, presumably over fault, and the collision was blocking both lanes of traffic as a small audience began to gather.  I watched the line of red taillights exit the valley as the line of yellow headlights grew on the other side.  The taxi passengers had no hope of getting to their stop, and slowly trickled out, looking for other means by which to reach their dinners and families.

Els and I decided best to turn around and find an alternate route.  Our detour took us nearly twice as long on a bumpy dirt road.  Once I reached home I was exhausted.  I declared to Phil, “Yoga was totally not worth it!” (imagine lots of pouting from Ang, with minimal sympathy from Phillium)

I’m going to try again tonight hoping to achieve a more balancing effect.  My yoga teacher says with enough practice, you can carry the calmness and presents-in-the-moment you feel while doing yoga into every aspect of your life (Can you imagine???).  Clearly, I’ve got a ways to go, but I’m not giving up.


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