Buddha Face

Nothing embarrassing for today. No gynecologist appointments recently, no farting in public. Though I am so glad some other guy farted during yoga last night and not me. I ate beans on toast for dinner and a fart would have been disastrous so to speak.

The yoga school I go to is training me from scratch to be an amazing yoga teacher. I am still extremely excited about this and at the same time terrified. While in one way I am completely devoted to learn anything there is about yoga, and in theory, I understand it all. In real life I find zen a highly foreign word in every sense.

“Buddha face! Do a Buddha face!” A lady explained after class this is how your face should be during poses, no matter how hard they are. Maybe even take this thought with you in daily life. But when I cycle home through the busy city centre, crashing into almost 32 tourist a minute all I am screaming in my head is: “F***ing Idiots! Have you never heard of a pavement?!” “Look first, mate LOOK”! Moments filled with heavy sighs, grunting and ringing my bell like lunatic. There is no Buddha face, nor will there ever be one.

I imagine the perfect yoga teachers almost pirouetting their way through the busy streets with a calm smile on their faces…and then there is me; a stressed out catastrophe. My other job is being a waitress. Another challenge now the days grow sunnier and busier and the people become more demanding. I find myself having a hard time keeping my patience sometimes. Empathy is lacking from both angles and again I feel like losing my calm and swearing under my breath a lot.

So how do people do it? How not to want to punch people in traffic? And my biggest question; How am I going to teach calm without being calm myself first? But doesn’t the most advanced yoga teacher get annoyed about something sometimes? I mean, when you bump your little toe on a leg of a table,..it hurts and even the most together people do a little swear word while jumping around on one leg right? I would…..I do.

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Fartasana

I am pushing my hands into my mat as hard as I can. David, my Ashtanga teacher, is telling me to focus on my breathing, but all I can think of is the burning sensation at the back of my legs. Drops of sweat are making their way up to my hairline and distracting me from “being in the now”. Downward dog is killing me. And so is the battle of keeping my butt-cheeks pressed together like a mother***r to prevent this fart from escaping.

You can laugh all you want. But it’s not like this never happened to you. I know a part of yoga is about detoxifying your body,.. but there is a limit of how much of my detox I want the person next to me to experience.  Yoga just took on a whole new perspective.

Every time I move down into a new version of bending over wide legged I pray to god everything will just stay in place. David makes it worse coming over to adjust my posture by pushing down on my lower back. Meaning well, but inside I am just screaming “GO AWAY!!”

Then, just when the room goes quiet, and I forgot about the trapped air and I felt like I was making this super controlled move,.. It escapes with a noise that’s comparable with the bang a fighter jet makes when it flies through the sound barriers.

I bury my hands in my face wishing the ground would just swallow me up whole right there. But the lady next to me laughs and says: “Ahhh, don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us.”

If anything, Fartsasana  was the most relieving thing I did in class. I could finally relax, and in complete bliss, thinking to myself, I am so happy it didn’t smell.
Note to self: http://manflowyoga.com/7-poses-that-make-you-art/

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