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Thursday, July 17, 2014

Eueueuchchch; or The Monkey Loses This Time

Right off the mat, as one might say, if one were to say such a thing, I can see that this guy’s gonna be special.

It’s yoga time.

There he is, pre-class, legs spread.  He swings his arms back and forth, back and forth.  Uh-uh-uh, he grunts.  He twists his torso to the right, then to the left:  Uh-uh-uh.

I lie back on my mat and close my eyes. Surrounded in my new job – at least by my ears’ understanding – by far-flung malenprops and four-to seven-spindled farquardts running about three clicks below harmanfletcher, the hour I spend at yoga is my buffer between work and home. 

I leave everything, as we like to say, on my mat.

The monkey in my head, the one that makes fun of women in five-inch heels and regularly suggests that I go ahead and eat whipped cream by the fists full, has other ideas, however, and is already slapping his big heavy palms against the inside of my skull.  Get a load of this guy, he chortles.  How you gonna ignore this galoot?  This guy’s gonna ruin your whole class!

I wave the monkey off. 

I don’t come to yoga to talk to monkeys.

But the monkeys, apparently, have come to yoga to talk to me.

Aside from rhythmic, steady breathing, and the sounds of music and the instructor’s voice, the room is silent. 

“Oh, hell,” the man whispers. 

“Well I can’t do that,” he mutters.

I twist from one position to the next, sometimes looking at the front of the room, sometimes the back.


I shudder.  Someone has just either cleared a long-standing clog, or the man on the mat to my left and back a couple feet has a sinus condition.

“Eueuuchhhhhh.”  The next position moves me to look back, in his direction, and I do so in time to see the woman just behind him give a look of revulsion.

She sees me. 

Our eyes meet, and we grin.

The monkey in my head had hoped, of course, for so much more.  But like I keep telling him: Yoga is not a competition. 

But if it were a competition, that woman and I just won. 


vanilla said...

I have nothing to say. There, I said it.

Optimistic Existentialist said...

So much for the relaxation of yoga eh? :)

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari Om
Monkeys are agile little buggers, heh na? Not half as agile as Pearlie's little grey cells though...YAM xx

jenny_o said...

I still cannot see how yoga can possibly be good for a person. For me, it would always be a matter of the negatives being bigger than the positives, and yoga would win. But I do admire you and anyone else who can do it and win, no matter who - or what - you're winning against!

Ms Scarlet said...

I'm glad I'm not the only one with a monkey in my head... sometimes I stuff a hanky in its mouth, just to keep the peace.

Anonymous said...

Apparently yoga attracts all types.

Shelly said...

Focusing on the monkey in my head was all that saved me from erupting into uproarious laughter in my circuit class yesterday at the guy next to me whose moans and groans morphed into sounds too vastly intimate for the gym.

vanilla said...

Now I think of what I might have said. They tell me that yoga is about "focus." That may be what you lost. Yet you did make a fun story about it.

Chicken said...

I want to go to yoga with you.
I know that monkey. He shows up in all kinds of places. I don't mind. He's more entertaining than most of the people I talk to in a day.

Leenie B said...

Inhale. Pay no attention to the scent of New Guy. Now a deep cleansing exhale. Glad you beat the monkey even if only for a moment.

Sioux's Page said...

I am sure yoga classes gives you lots of writing material.

Pearl said...

I'm tellin' ya, the sights, the sounds, and yes, the smells are usually just good blog fodder. Every now and then -- like today, on the bus, when the guy behind me -- well, we'll save that.

I have to admit that I don't really mind the smell of good, hard-won sweat. I don't mind being close to people. What I do mind, however, are people that don't notice that they are outside of the room's expectations. If it is silent, and you are using your vocal chords, well why is that? How can you not notice that no one else is making these sounds?

People. We're just so weird.

Joanne Noragon said...

Even if I appreciated yoga, the head down dog thing would send my monkey hone.

Geo. said...

I sure liked this post, Pearl. But in defense of yoga-guy, we men do sometimes revert to a protolanguage of grunts and snorts. It's women who invented things like verbs and stuff.

Mitchell is Moving said...

Your monkey's been hanging around here an awful lot lately. Tell him to come home!

Great yoga story. I can picture it (and I'm glad I didn't have to experience it live and in person).

Elephant's Child said...

I swear that all the monkeys of the world are related. Though racial, religious boundaries for them. Unless they decide to adopt them.

Gigi said...

I beg to differ...yoga IS a competition. And he lost.

Daisy said...

Laughing too hard at the images, the story, and the comments, to type or deal with that darn monkey!

River said...

That's just the type of sound I hate to hear. Anywhere. Focus on the monkey instead Pearl.

Linda O'Connell said...

I'm thinking at least he didn't hawk it up. How do you maintain your composure?

Daisy said...

You and she shared a real moment there! Haha! Yes, you definitely won. Tell the monkey not to be too disappointed. I'm sure his time will come on another day.

Thanks for making me smile (again!), Pearl. :D Have a great weekend!

Suldog said...

Men and women, in general, have entirely different approaches to exercise and relaxation. It would probably be best if exercise classes of any sort - but maybe especially yoga - were segregated, for the good of both. You folks could be more serene and we could be more... well, I'm not sure what he was, but it sure wasn't serene.

Diane Tolley said...

Here's where I admit that I went to yoga once. It took four grown people to untie me. I left my monkey on the mat. Dead.