“Scrotumasana” – Sanskrit for “I Can See Your Private Parts”

Jul 10, 2012 By Namaste Bitches in Uncategorized 1 Comment

RECLINING BOUND ANGLE POSE

(Supta Baddha Konasana):

Supta Baddha Konasana, or reclining bound angle pose for those of you not fluent in Sanskrit, is one of my absolute favourite restorative poses. It’s great for releasing anxiety, fatigue and hip tension.

Apparently it’s also great for releasing testicles.

It was my 3rd time ever teaching yoga. I sat down on my mat and asked everyone to bring the soles of their feet together.

Front row centre.

Super short shorts.

TESTICLES.

I’m not uncomfortable with nudity. I did, after all, work as an entertainer for Club Med in Mexico with a group of Europeans right out of University. But I will admit that I was uncomfortable seeing a man’s testicles fall out of his shorts.

“Live in the moment”, I told myself, “It’s just a body.”

And BAWDY it was. Each pose brought a slightly different aspect of the parts. I saw the women around him looking at each other uncomfortably. Do I speak to it? Do I talk to him later about more appropriate attire? Is it really my place to tell the man what he should wear to yoga class? Why am I so freaked out by this man’s testicles???

It was the longest class of my life. Finally we were at Corpse pose. Savasana. A final resting pose for all of us.

Unsure of how to handle the situation and not wanting to embarrass the man, I waited until everyone left and them gently suggested he might be more comfortable in something a little longer. He nodded politely and I never saw his private parts again.

TONI’S WISDOM NUGGET:

If you can feel cool air on your genitals while in class, consider wearing something tighter, longer or different.

Unless you’re going to naked yoga, in which case you can bring out the boys, the girls and anyone else who wants to play.

The Story of Licorice Bear & the Man who Killed a Raccoon

Jul 6, 2012 By Namaste Bitches in Uncategorized No Comments

com·pas·sion

[kuhm-pash-uhn]

1. a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is

stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

We talk a lot in yoga about opening the heart.

In class, this might sound something like, “roll your shoulders back and feel your chest expand as you send you heart forward“. Sometimes the instructor might say “burst your heart forward“, “feel your heart blossom” or, if you’re really lucky, “let your heart shine“.

While the verbage can sometimes be a little much for some to handle, the message is a beautiful one. Essentially, we’re striving to cultivate compassion; to be our very own yoga Care Bear.

For those of you who’ve never heard of a Care Bear (really?), they were very popular stuffed toys from the 1980s. Each bear was a different colour and had a symbol on its belly that represented its duty and personality.

Sometimes I think things happen to me so I can have material to write about. Last week was one of those times.

I had one of those pre-bedtime emergency mommy moments when you go to make your 2 year old’s bottle only to realize that your bonus son (so much nicer than “stepson”) has used all the rest of the milk to make his world famous chocolate shake. The recipe for those of you who might be interested is “1 part milk. 10 parts chocolate.” I threw on my flip flops and power walked down to the gas station, realizing we had also run out of licorice.

On my way back up the street, my mouth stuffed with Twizzlers, I stopped in my tracks as I watched a cyclist pull a dead raccoon by all four limbs, blood dragging behind it, up onto the sidewalk. The man started to become visibly upset coming to his knees and petting the raccoon on its face and side.

My first thought was “that man has racoon blood on his hands”. Maybe it was a cat.

“Sir? Is that a cat?,” I yelled out.

“It’s a raccoon,” he replied wiping away his tears. ”I killed it! I killed a raccoon!”

I couldn’t believe how upset the man was and wondered whether or not now would be a good time to let him know about rabies.

Nevertheless, I wanted to comfort him in any way I could.

“Sir, is there anything I can do?,” I asked, “can I call someone for you?”

“I just need to be alone with the animal,” he replied.

I thought about the dozens of times in my life I’d passed dead raccoons on the side of the road, thinking of them as “roadkill”. I’d never stopped to comfort any of them. I’d never cried over them. I’d definitely never pet any of them. I was so touched by this man’s love for the animal and his genuine distress over what had just happened.

Unable to walk away and determined to do something to help make this better, I stepped a little closer. ”My name is Toni. I’d really like to do something to help.”

There was a strange silent pause.

“Licorice?,” I continued, extending my opened and half eaten bag forward like a real life Care Bear.

“A piece of licorice would be nice,” he said, as he laughed and wiped away a tear.

I walked the rest of the way home feeling connected to the stranger on the road and touched by his actions.

We’d both let our hearts shine.

That’s what yoga is really about.

HONOUR ME!!!!!

Jul 3, 2012 By Namaste Bitches in Uncategorized No Comments

Having worked with both, I can honestly say that yoga instructors are a lot like actors. Some are humble about their talents, easy to work with and grounded, while others are high maintenance, self-absorbed, and delusional.

We went through a fair number of instructors in the first four months of our studio being open. Most of them put in a month or two with us and then left because they lived too far from the studio, were headed abroad to study with a master teacher, or couldn’t work for us unless they were guaranteed back-to-back classes for financial reasons.

A few left for more profound reasons, specifically, that they were not being honoured. “Honour” is to the high-maintenance yogi what “exploring the craft” is to the high-maintenance actor. Honour in this context is not merely respect. Rather, it’s otherworldly admiration and awe that the instructor feels s/he deserves as a result of all the books s/he has read about the Yoga Sutras and all the workshops s/he has paid thousands of dollars to take with descendants of the yoga gods.

Newsflash #1:

Reading lots of yoga books and doing a 200 hour teacher training program does not make you a yoga guru.

Newsflash #2:

Talking about other people’s “energy” is still gossip.

One instructor informed me that she was known as “edgy” around the city. I wasn’t entirely sure what this meant, but she was keen and I liked her so we gave it a whirl. When I realized that “edgy” meant she had a trucker mouth in class, I had to talk to her. She explained to me that her language was an extension of her authentic self and that to change her energetic vibe would be inauthentic. I then had to be super authentic and let her go, which resulted in a palm-to-palm namaste and subsequent Facebook de-friending from her.

Let’s not forget about the instructor who approached us wanting to help for “karmic reasons”. At that time, I erred more on the side of yoga than business, and I was genuinely touched. He said he’d be willing to put his name behind the studio to endorse us as good people so that some of his instructor friends would graciously allow us to pay them to teach at our studio. He also said he’d be happy to teach five classes per week for pay, but would spend one day per week at the studio fielding calls and brainstorming ideas for free.

The businesswoman in me didn’t understand why he would be willing to help us do anything for free, but the yogi in me was proud to be a part of something where community came forward in times of need.

It was only a matter of time before this instructor was asking for shares in exchange for his “energy.” He felt his wisdom was worth at least 15% of the company and that it would behoove us to keep him around to grow the business.

I immediately stated that we would continue to pay him for classes, but couldn’t promise anything extra for additional help based on the fact that we were operating in the red and shares needed to be retained for anyone bringing in actual money. Besides, considering we weren’t paying ourselves for anything, shares were all we had. The instructor told me not to worry because we would “figure something out,” and then headed off to the Himalayas to study.

I knew well enough that you had to be clear in business, because “figure something out” is synonymous with “this is going to end poorly.”

I wrote a letter to the instructor saying that we could not give away shares in exchange for his “energy”. The instructor was not happy. What resulted when he returned back to the city was more bizarre than anger. It was his need for me to listen and witness him as he explained to me how betrayed he felt. “You don’t see all that I am! You don’t honour me or my energy,” he yelled, as if honour was going to pay the rent or the phone bill. “Thank you for your energy,” I responded, thinking that gratitude would calm him.

“I don’t give a f@ck about your thank you. I need to get paid.”

So much for “karmic reasons”.

That was one of the pivotal moments in my understanding of the fact that, yoga or not, this was still business.

I realized that it doesn’t matter how long an instructor can hold a handstand if they’re a pain in the ass to work with.