I finally dig yoga. Thank fuck.

These are the voyages of the star sprite Kelly – ise, to seek out new worlds and new civilizations, to boldly go where no mentally unstable girl has gone before – Cue muzak  Well it goes something like that, doesn’t it?

For 30 longish years I have waded through the the boggy recesses of my fucked up mind, pushing against the tide of blah blah blah, a whole messy bunch of mental failure and drear-some darkness. Sporadically punctuated by a few bright splashes of my real self. All shiny, exuberant and full of fun loving deliciousness. I have frequently and repeatedly been told I should meditate (which I am completely shite at) and do Yoga (with whom I have a long hate hate relationship with) Why? You ask. let me enlighten you…..

Tooooo damn slow.

Too much damn lycra.

Too many embarrassing, creepy (stolen from my current yoga instructor) deep breathing.

The music is too slow

Too expensive

I could go on. In short I would have rather gone to a spin class, with booming house music and sweated my ass off. Which is what I did for 30 years.

I did pregnancy yoga, but I got dizzy and still had to have the cesarean (3 times). I tried floaty, religousy yoga, well I do not believe in god (sorry to all my religious friends, he does not exist)  and that may have been helpful. I did the spiritual, incense laden, lets travel to India yoga, all very nice but to much arm pit hair and unwashed pony tails in a room (ahh now I know why there is so much incense). I tried, the fit, hot, rich mum yoga, but in short they are not at all friendly unless you drive a Range Rover and have an account at Lululemon, I drive a big fat Yukon, affectionately known as the Polar bear – she is a white car and I wear yoga gear that are Target specials.

So after those long years of  discovery bullshit, I walked in to “The Yoga Lab”. I sub sequentially found my yoga home. The people are friendly, but not obnoxious, the drop in fee is reasonable, they are trippy and enlightened, but not dippy and dull. The class is fast and the instructor admits to his own failures, the yoga is not pretty, but pushes me to work hard and challenges me both in my body and mind. The music is loud and big on the bass, it is hot and sweaty and not at one moment can my anxieties take over and defeat me. There is no time, all my energy is exhausted by my screaming muscles and my focused mind. Yes there is Lycra abound and the deep creepish breathing (I still struggle with that and want to punch the nearest person), no one is posing or prancing like a wanker, but it is dark and the energy is flowing and nothing can escape the room or enter it once that hour starts. We are taught to keep our joy and not give it away, to stand still and be, to not let life rob us of our internalization and freedom, we have to just be and to just be silent and still.

At last my eureka moment. I feel like I have finally understood this practice, or have I found a practice that has finally understood me. In that hour I only feel the sparks of my light, I feel like I am glowing and not hiding in the shade and shadows of the anxiety filled recesses of my psyche.

No one needs me or wants me in those carefully carved out moments, so I can only be who I am, who I am meant to be and that is Kelly.

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