Yesterday I got up early to head to DC for mysore practice with a special visiting teacher, David Robson, who heads the world’s largest mysore program at the Ashtanga Yoga Center of Toronto; he is also known for his highly-regarded “Learn to Float” DVDs.
I was really excited to go. So excited I didn’t even inwardly groan as I set may alarm for 5am and change on the Sunday of a holiday weekend. So excited I didn’t mind the 45- minute drive to the studio.
And then I walked into the room …
The only spots left were in the back, by the door. I put down my mat, dissatisfied already. I feel isolated, and, I realize, cold. Very cold. Way too cold.
I look around. People are in the thick of their practice, some wearing mere sports bras and shorts! I know I hate being cold, but do all these people not notice how cold it is? Is something wrong with me? I leave my sweatpants and long shirt on over my yoga clothes. I start to practice.
“Come on JM, man up,” I tell myself. Breath, bandhas, dristi.
But I can’t help myself. Inhale my arms lift, palms press, my gaze lifts…and then my gaze floats around the room– it’s fucking cold!!” … I wonder if maybe the front of the room isn’t as cold, noticing with great displeasure that I am smack next to a door that is drowning me in drafts from the cold wintry morning. Exhaling into revolved triangle, my internal thoughts come tumbling out with unstoppable force.