To set the record straight, this isn’t my nickname for the yoga guru at school, it’s my friend’s. Papa Om is a short old man, with a white beard, hearing aid, and a very pronounced belly. I can’t actually imagine him doing yoga, though he must have been good when he was younger. To begin with, I’m not a yoga person. I’ve tried in a handful of times, at various places back in the U.S. and it’s just never struck a chord with me. It’s the whole breathing thing that tends to get me—I’m a fidgeter by nature, so sitting absolutely still just concentrating on my breath isn’t very appealing. Oh, and there’s the fact that I’m not the most flexible person in the world. But, I’m in India after all—the birthplace of the yogic philosophy and practice—so I figured that it’s the place to give it another shot.
The yoga center on campus is in the “old sports shed”: a sizable concrete building with metal sheeting for the roof. Today I went with one of my friends who is in a class to get her teaching certificate, so I figured I could steal a glance at her to figure out what I was actually supposed to be doing. We started off with a breathing exercise, which seemed pretty comical to me, but then again, I’m not a yoga person. With our thumbs we closed our right nostril and inhaled through our left nostril. Then we closed our left nostril with our ring finger and exhaled through our right. This happened for a while. I don’t think I’ve ever paid so much attention to my nostrils outside of blowing my nose. Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised by the number of poses I could do reasonably well. I would tell you what they were expect the teacher only used the Sanskrit names for them. I did recognize the tree pose, however, and only fell over once!
To conclude our class, Papa Om had us lie in the resting position that my high school gym teacher called the “sponge,” not to get all technical on you. Papa Om, by the way, has this deep vibrating voice that would be perfect for those meditation tapes that are supposed to help you quit smoking. Starting with our toes he had us relax every body part. When we got to our calves, he told us to let them “sag.” After our knees, we were supposed to let our thighs “sag.” Papa Om, great leader that he is, should work on his word choice because instead of relaxing like I was supposed to I was internally cracking up. As we proceeded to sag the rest of our body I decided that this exercise was a cross-between that scene in Zoolander where Ben Stiller gets hypnotized by the song “Relax” and the game we used to play at slumber parties: “light as a feather, stiff as a board.” Papa Om told us to “relax” about every other word—hence the Zoolander connection—though in a much less frenzied manner. After completely relaxing our body, we were told to imagine ourselves light without connection to the ground, which except for the whole being limp rather than tensed up because a bunch of 10-year-old girls were about to lift you from the floor, brought back the sleepover memories. In sum, I failed to do anything at all that Papa Om told me to do because I was mentally composing this blog post. I am planning on going back tomorrow. Papa Om must know what he’s doing after all…
The yoga center on campus is in the “old sports shed”: a sizable concrete building with metal sheeting for the roof. Today I went with one of my friends who is in a class to get her teaching certificate, so I figured I could steal a glance at her to figure out what I was actually supposed to be doing. We started off with a breathing exercise, which seemed pretty comical to me, but then again, I’m not a yoga person. With our thumbs we closed our right nostril and inhaled through our left nostril. Then we closed our left nostril with our ring finger and exhaled through our right. This happened for a while. I don’t think I’ve ever paid so much attention to my nostrils outside of blowing my nose. Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised by the number of poses I could do reasonably well. I would tell you what they were expect the teacher only used the Sanskrit names for them. I did recognize the tree pose, however, and only fell over once!
To conclude our class, Papa Om had us lie in the resting position that my high school gym teacher called the “sponge,” not to get all technical on you. Papa Om, by the way, has this deep vibrating voice that would be perfect for those meditation tapes that are supposed to help you quit smoking. Starting with our toes he had us relax every body part. When we got to our calves, he told us to let them “sag.” After our knees, we were supposed to let our thighs “sag.” Papa Om, great leader that he is, should work on his word choice because instead of relaxing like I was supposed to I was internally cracking up. As we proceeded to sag the rest of our body I decided that this exercise was a cross-between that scene in Zoolander where Ben Stiller gets hypnotized by the song “Relax” and the game we used to play at slumber parties: “light as a feather, stiff as a board.” Papa Om told us to “relax” about every other word—hence the Zoolander connection—though in a much less frenzied manner. After completely relaxing our body, we were told to imagine ourselves light without connection to the ground, which except for the whole being limp rather than tensed up because a bunch of 10-year-old girls were about to lift you from the floor, brought back the sleepover memories. In sum, I failed to do anything at all that Papa Om told me to do because I was mentally composing this blog post. I am planning on going back tomorrow. Papa Om must know what he’s doing after all…
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