Man, there is nothing quite like starting your Saturday feeling like an enormous dork. Lucky for me, that's just what happened in yoga this morning.
Yoga classes at the gym aren't really the hippy-dippy, spiritual kind of classes you might get at a real yoga studio. Then again, I suppose it depends more on your yogi than on the place in which you're taking the class. So, regardless of the reason, the classes I take are fairly straightforward. Drop your worries off your shoulders, enjoy your Savasana, you carry your emotions in your hips ... that kind of stuff, sure.
However, my Ukrainian Saturday instructor has gotten a bit more into the philosophic side of yoga over the four years I've been taking her class. Just back this summer, she started having us "Inhale love ... exhale peace. Inhale health ... exhale gratitude." She's talked about chakras and visualizing energy entering your body. But today she busted out something new. She wanted us, as we were inhaling and exhaling, raising our arms and bring them back into Namaste, to say, "I love you, [insert your name here]." Loudly.
So she demonstrates with her own name, "I love you, Marina." And I followed along, as most people seemed to do; just not very loud. What I couldn't hear, since I was up in the front, was that people were apparently saying, "I love you, Marina." Look, maybe it was because it was earlyish on a weekend morning. Perhaps people hadn't had their coffee yet. But honestly, it's not that tough of a concept to grasp, is it? Do these people read an oath or something with "[insert name]" and say "insert name?" Oh, dumb people.
We also had to say, "I respect you, Jess." Well, that's what I had to say. I think people figured out they were to use their own names at by the time we got to respecting ourselves. And I only felt like a bit of a nerd. I mean, I am pretty awesome. 'Bout damn time someone said something, even if it was me.