This Time Yoga, You Went Too Far

I hope I haven't written too critically about studios and workout choices. My intention with this blog has been to narrate my experience as an outsider, but do so with an open mind about what I experience. Yes, Swing wasn't for me, but it really wasn't a workout class, either. And yes, the crystals were strange, but that was a part of the whole experience and needed to be shared. Have I been fair in my observations? Sometimes I can be cynical, but hopefully fair.

This post will not be fair. In this post, I beg some people in this world to dial the crazy back a notch. As such, I promise to leave out any detail that would indicate where this yoga studio is located or what it is called. However, if you have practiced at this yoga studio, you will most likely know it. If you do and love it, I am sorry in advance for offending you.

I drove about 20 minutes in a nameless direction to hit this studio for Saturday morning hot yoga. This Sacramento suburb is affluent. It should not have surprised me that this studio was advertising monthly passes for $275. Wait. What? Oh... but you get so much with it. Body consulting, webinars, 10% off all the stuff you can buy, one body ritual per month, plus unlimited yoga. Ok, if you are fully into it, ok. Ok. I will give you that. But, wait... wait. How is this extra special pricey yoga place with advertising help from a certain guru type figure that shall remain nameless also going to offer tans and waxing?

PLEASE. I'm no Yogi master, but I would assume that tans and waxing are deeply against yoga tradition. I smell sham. And sham smells like citrus laced bullcrap with way too much mumbo jumbo to validate the pricing.

I walked into the studio, and this hyper woman instructed me to pick any spot. Wow. The studio provided mint infused water for us to drink and the room was already heating up.  Nice.  "I'm doing yoga with the Ritchies today,"  I think to myself as I pour my mint la-di-da water.

One peculiar part of this studio is that lay out the mats, and thus they control the crowd. They can shove bodies in, and they did. I couldn't move. Space scrunching seemed counterproductive. The other yoga classes I've been to specifically have said "make sure you have a lot of room."

I looked around the studio, and I swear, they filled it with so much distraction, you couldn't relax and tune out if you tried. Again, I don't think that's the goal of yoga. Water running, gel fire burning, gong, TVs, crystals, conch shells, walls of fake plants, mirrors, steam buckets with citrus and herbs, gold everywhere, mirror walls, posters about how to spend more of your money, etc. This place is  busy. Sounds are prolific. So strange.

I watched the crowd as they came in with curiosity. Who would spend this type of money? Why? I listened to people chat, and I heard a chorus of  stressed out people. All this stuff, was it working or no? One lady said she liked to be by the water because she needed all the "positive ions or something." Then she launched into how impossible her sales goals were and just blasted her company for about five minutes. (I was early to this class.)

The instructor started talking. She looked miserable, honestly. She was scrolling through her phone, and started explaining that the fires in Nor Cal were taking a toll on her sister. Apparently her sister had some property right by the fire. Concerned students probed for more detail. She unapologetically explained the WHOLE story. Yes, she has property, but it's not inhabited other than a tree house that the sister built as sort of a get away. It's her sacred place, but not her lived in place.

I'm sorry that might be lost, but let's look at the bigger picture shall we? There's people losing their actual homes- and maybe even people in that class have loved ones going through it. This seems awfully petty for my yoga instructor to be complaining about this prior to starting the class.  Everyone seemed shocked at her personal tragedy, however, so I chalked my reaction up to me being a jaded ahole, or just an awesome insurance practitioner. Back to the sounds....

Seriously, the sounds were immensely distracting. But not as distracting as the woman to hit me every time we stretched... and glared at me! I didn't put these mats down. I was here first anyway. Why is yoga making me so mad?

Backing up a bit, cry baby yoga teach got started abruptly. It was like someone flipped a switch in her from whiny to totally creepy. She had a script. The script was complicated, and she overacted the part entirely with this part-male-part-female booming voice.  "You're sailing into the cosmos while flying on a unicorn, with open minds to the fairies, tootling their horns. Think orange. Think ORANGE! RRRRAAAAHHHHMMM!!" (I may have exaggerated with the fairies and unicorns) I tried to think orange with stress and sweat, and as I  conjured orange, the class responded RRRRRAAAAHHHHHMMMMM!!

Oh wow. I'm in trouble now. What's next? Ok. Breathing. Cool.

Wait.

What the hell is she doing?

What the hell is everyone doing?

They're blowing snot rockets. "I can't. I can't. No. I'll just drink this mint water. Agh, I swallowed a mint leaf."  I sweat intensely. "YYYYYAAAAUUUUMMMM!! Think GREEN!" Wait, what? I thought it was orange? Are we doing all the colors?


"YYYYYAAAAUUUMMMM!" The class yelled back. It was at this point that I realized that I have ruined any community feeling of wellness this practice was supposed to create. My face was contorted; visibly unhappy and scared.Sweat wooshed onto my mat like a toilet bowl filling with water.

In this moment, I'm gross. I'm pessimistic. And I might hate this yoga instructor.

Sometimes, we positioned into a regular yoga pose, but quickly the crazy would build and we might have been told to flap our arms or blow snot rockets.  I know we are not always doing yoga at all, but rather sit up variants and weird made up movements.

The biggest issue for me was the intense and often comical chanting. I wish someone  had advised me to bring noise cancelling headphones. She said "It's time." I thought it was time to go, but no. It was time to fly.  Simon and Garfunkle serenaded our flight; my maiden voyage to the ether. We sat cross legged and put our arms out to soar with our eyes closed.

Yup. That all happened. It was like a crazy Disneyland ride with singing from one room bleeding into the next room, so many things to look at, colors smashing into eachother, limited space, conflicting smells, OVERSTIMULATION!!!
 

That was exactly what was happening. She sprayed citrus on me unexpectedly. She made me rub my hands with some muck and wave it in front of my face. I was completely overstimulated at this point, This class proved to be too much Garfunkle and flash for me to handle. When we were in triangle pose yelling CCHHHHAAAAUUUMMMM or whatever, I took my opportunity to walk out.

 

 In my haste to not go bezerker in "yoga", I forgot my headband on the sweaty wet mat. The front desk gal came chasing after me into the parking lot with it and complimented my effort. Whatever.

I drove home shivering from the sweat now creating a cold water bath on my body. I  was confused at what I had just experienced, and why anyone would do that over and over knowing what it was. I drove with the radio off in a sensory safe environment. My Honda was my safety blanket. This was as close to a total fail as I have come in this quest, and I still loved that it happened. It was more interesting than sleeping in!    

I think you can guess that this is a no f'ing way. But I thought I'd share anyway.