On My Camel

Camel Vs. Camel

Life is filled with firsts. Your first period, your first erection, your first bra, the first time you cheat on a test, the first time you sleep with your college lit professor, the first time you get so drunk you pass out in Moe’s AMC Pacer and the first time you do Camel Pose without wanting to puke. Today, I experienced my first Camel without wanting to vomit on my rental mat. Oh, and it was my first erection EVER but that’s a story for another time.

For those of y’all who are unfamiliar with Camel, it’s this one. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Ha! That doesn’t look too hard! Pfft! I can do that in my sleep after chugging cheap gin and eating Taquitos!” G’head. Give it a try, but when you do, don’t for get to breathe only through your nose, keep your ass-cheeks tight, push your hips and thighs forward throughout the entire posture, lift your chest up, relax your face and keep looking for the ground with your eyes. OH, and keep your eyes open otherwise you’ll get dizzy. Now, try to get out of the pose the same way you went into it: by moving your hands up your ass to your middle back one at a time without twisting around. Otherwise you’ll really hurt yourself. My camel even captured the attention of the teacher: She called my camel “strong and beautiful.”

Made my day.

So, why is this important? Anyone who practices yoga or does any type of exercise routine, or participates in a sport that requires using both your physical and mental being to work together, understands how important to one’s self-esteem an accomplishment like this it. This is a very difficult pose because it’s the biggest backbend in the series, and it has been known to cause one to puke. Also, photos of this pose are deceiving because it looks easier than it is. Once you start the pose, you quickly realize just how difficult it is to do–but that’s the challenge of Bikram or any yoga practice. It’s difficult but you do it anyway. You challenge yourself–your whole self, not just the physical.

That’s yoga. At least, that’s what yoga is to me.

This is a huge victory for me.

Now, if I’m able to do this again tomorrow, I’ll be even more surprised.

Who knows … maybe the dam is starting to break.

PS: Oh me oh me oh my. I wanna go.

Corey Hart will haunt my dreams

For some reason, I heard this song on the way to Bikram this morning, and on the way home. This worries me — makes me wonder that maybe there’s some sort of disconnect in the universe. Who knows. However, knowing how things are with me lately, I’m sure I’ll have some sort of Ambien-induced, weird dream about Corey Hart, a bucket of fried chicken, a sear-sucker suit, pine needles and some dude named Hoke. Great — now I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight.

Class was off today. I couldn’t get it right, wasn’t feelin’ it. Half Moon really hurts the bejeebus out of my shoulder. I didn’t push as hard as usual because the pain was causing me to wince which, in turn, was causing me to hold my breath. It didn’t help seeing my “Hi Janes” in the mirror. Fortunately, neither my arms nor my hair look as bad as what’s featured in the picture, but you get the idea. Plus, that necklace is U.G.L.Y. If I’m not careful, this is gonna be me in about 5 years.

A young women directly in front of me had THE best tat on her lower back. It was of Shakespeare all hip-hopped up. I can’t find any images to do it justice. Wait, I could, but I’m too damn lazy. Tats are de rigueur in Bikram. I feel so out-of-place because I don’t have an “Om” or something else written in Sanskrit splayed on my inner-thigh, or winding up my spinal column (because you know that felt fucking good — I just hope those broads were drunk/passed out when they were getting stamped). Actually, I’ve considered getting a tat for a long time now. I go back and forth on it, but I don’t think my family would appreciate their likeness inked across my ass. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.

And, now that I’ve added a tattooed image of yours truly to your mental Rolodex, I will sign off for the day. Ciao, Monkehs.