I was a bad yogi the other night.
You see, each week my sister and I attend a hot yoga class. We aim for a mid-week class, something to look forward to on Monday and Tuesday, something to de-stress us for the rest of the week. When we first started attending, there were only four or five of us each week. Now the class is much more popular.
Last week, there was this guy. It was clear that he practices regularly; he could do all kinds of fancy things. But he was also a really, obnoxiously loud and out-of-order breather (we’re supposed to be flowing with our breath here). And his movements were all over the place (think toppling over about 75% of the time). Ugh, look at me being a bad yogi still!
It really took away from the class for me. I had such a hard time moving past the distraction. I wished he hadn’t come to class. I wished the teacher would say something about control. I wasn’t nice.
I feel bad for feeling such animosity toward this random person in a yoga class. That is so not the point of yoga! But I’m still thinking about it, so maybe something did come of it. I’m trying to keep the whole thing in mind, framed as a lesson in patience and acceptance.
Instead of being grumpy, I should be proud of him (and of myself) for pushing through class. I should be thankful that I got to see him do lots of headstands. I should look to those little classroom annoyances as opportunities to expand my own practice.
Next time, I’ll be a better yogi.