Yes - another yoga post.
If I had a life outside of family, work and yoga, you'd get more out of me. But I don't.
I do try to keep it to just the interesting classes. Actually the locations. Since yoga is a few thousand years old, there's not always tons new in the actual practice.
But there was a class last night, taught by Bri (you remember her from her Whole Foods Yoga) and it was at the Museum of Contemporary Art (which I wrote about back in 2013).
I still like the building and location. I still have not changed my mind of the actual amount of space to show art. It's limiting at best.
The yoga posse was going, but that wasn't going to be a deterrent from supporting Bri. It's petty of me, but some of the posse has just gotten on my nerves. It's a little judge-y of me, but I'm ok not practicing with them every week.
I also got my friend Geoffrey to attend - along with his partner, Craig. They restarted yoga a few weeks ago but weren't sure about doing it in a public forum like this - or out in the showiness of nature.
Last week they were dining alfresco when we were practicing outside. Watching. Eating. ...but not participating, except in the art of mockery via text message.
Geoffrey wasn't sure he could be comfortable practicing in a courtyard at an outdoor shopping area. I get that. But I gave up that ghost long ago. Except for someone's horrible cologne wafting in the breeze, I didn't notice any of the people milling about - though it was hard to ignore their snot-nosed kids running around right next to us, with nary a word of reprimand from their inattentive parents.
Anyhoo - yesterday's practice was entitled: Expressive Movement, which worried me.
Bri is all about the movement. The dance! Or attempting to get me to. Attempting.
I'm happy to dance around the kitchen while I cook, but that's about it. It's for a maximum audience of three: 710, the dog and the cat. In Winter, with the leaves off the trees, maybe someone driving down the street can see, but at 35 mph, they won't actually be sure of what they thought they just saw.
And yes, Bri incorporated movement into our 75 minutes. Lots and lots of movement.
The part that deviated was her talk of death. Death. Death. Death.
Sure, it was in the context of how you live now and what you will do with your life. But it kept coming back to: one day you will die.
I love Bri, but it got to the point when she brought up death, I couldn't stop laughing uncontrollably. At one point I even asked, loud enough for all to hear, "are you off your anti-depressants?"
Still, she committed to the theme: "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" was on the playlist. And then some song about the bones going to the wolves.
It was a decent enough of a work-out. I was sweating. Though there was touching of other people, on purpose. I'm never sure about that.
Afterwards, David and I went around the museum with a guy we've seen in a few other classes, Jo(h)n.
This was just a video of a person walking in front of a freighter.
But then there was an interactive project where you took a ball peen hammer and some metal letters. You'd hit the letters with the hammer onto a 3x5 white card - and then you'd hang the cards on a display.
Mine didn't go very well and I gave up.
But Jo(h)n made his.
Seeing Bri off at the end of the evening, I did tell her, "You killed it!" She laughed.
Song by: Bob Dylan