I went to a noon yoga class on Friday.
To be out in the world, moving amongst the people during the day? I’m like a rich person over here!
Have you been to places – outside of work – during the day? It’s another world altogether. The daytime people, moving about in the sunlight, they’re different than you and I.
There’s even a difference between my regular, 5:30 yoga class and the noon class, not in the flow but in the people.
Come with me, won’t you? You’re going to need to change – not that you don’t look great, because you do! – but you’re never going to be able to move properly in that skirt…
Outside of the first five minutes, there’s little chance to look around in a yoga class, not to mention that it’s not polite.
So let’s take a gander and be quick about it.
The biggest difference between this class and my usual class is the average age. Look around: I’m the oldest person here. Everyone else is clearly in their mid-20s. These are the waitresses, the bartenders, the musicians, the strippers, the unemployed and the wealthy. They don’t stand in line, they don’t awaken as the sun rises, and they’re not concerned that their tattoos will make them unemployable.
They also tend to wear bits of string on their ankles and wrists. I’m not sure what that’s about. Perhaps it’s a conservation-thing? Have those things been made of old clothing? Are they reducing their string footprint?
And of course I’ve already mentioned the tattoos. I’ve not mentioned the fact that some of these people are wearing wool stocking caps in a class that will average, over the course of the hour, 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
The 5:30 class smells of rush-hour stress.
The noon class smells of sandalwood.
You know, I wouldn’t want to be in my 20s again, but today’s class reminded me: I need more sandalwood in my life.
Thought of the day: Certainty
13 hours ago