Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Sound Byte

I'm trying to drown out stripper music with Enya. Is it working? ~Courtesy of yesterday's yoga instructor

Sometime between when I was going last winter and when I started up again a few weeks ago, a *ahem* "gentlemen's" club has set up shop below my hot yoga studio. Thus far I haven't noticed too many obstructions, aside from the stone fountain and metal barricades around the grey-carpeted entrance aisle blocking off prime parking spots. I'm not sure if it's even in full operation yet. Regardless, it still ticks me off to have to walk in front of it to get between the studio door and my car. Kind of kills the yummy, peaceful, yoga-produced vibes, you know?

If you don't know a lot about yoga, specifically Bikram yoga, let me educated you a little: it takes a lot of concentration. So much so that we hardly ever get to listen to any music, just the instructors prompts and guides. Granted, there are a few classes where the instructor practices along with you and you just listen to music, but those are generally for people who really know what they're doing. Even having other people in the room can be a detrimental distraction-- especially for us prideful sorts. Everything from the breathing to holding the poses to resting takes introspective concentration, being aware of your body's needs and gently pushing it to and stretching its limits. Needless to say, this becomes increasingly difficult with bass thumping up through the floor in to which you're supposed to imagine yourself rooted.

Even more so if you begin to wonder if you're rooting yourself onto the top of someone else's pole.