I Did Yoga for the First Time and Holy Shit That Shit is Hard

I saw the greatest bumper sticker of all time when I was 18.

Driving to my busboy job in the summer of 1994 I had a Beatles album on full blast. I had recently discovered the genius of the Beatles and (like most people with music sensibility) determined them to be the BEST BAND IN HISTORY. I still feel that way. When I pulled up to a red light behind a pick-up truck, I saw IT. Then I never saw IT again. Until this morning.

I’ll get back to the bumper sticker thing in a sec. I’m not good with transitions, so indulge me this digression.

I’ve never done yoga. Well, that’s not entirely true. In college I borrowed a Kathy Smith Yoga Basics VHS tape and tried her routine a few times in my fraternity house. In 1996 yoga was not trendy. But Kathy Smith was buxom and perfect-looking so I didn’t get too much flack from the guys in the house. I lost interest quickly, however. It’s too distracting to see a 10 with a breathy voice bending all over the tv. I was only 19, for chrissakes. I couldn’t handle that.

Almost 20 years later I decided to try yoga again. But this time not in a crowded frat-dorm with half-empty beer cans littering the coffee table. I found a studio around the corner from my place in Chicago that had a good reputation.

So, this morning, I put on a workout outfit and headed out. When I pulled up to the yoga studio at 9:30am, I almost missed IT.

The yoga studio was in a 120 year old Chicago three-flat. There was a lush garden that you walked through to get to the door. I was buzzed in and a woman dressed entirely in white greeted me. She told me to grab a mat and a cushion. I asked, “Uh, do I wear socks?” She told me that most people didn’t.

In the studio there were icons of famous yogis on the wall. The hardwood floor creaked like many Chicago apartments. The woman in white sat in the front and put on new age music. She assumed the lotus position and told us to grab a mantra card.

We started the session with a chant. I can’t exactly remember the words, but it was near identical to the chorus of Across the Universe.

Jai guru deva om.

I think we were giving thanks to God or something. I involuntarily started singing the Beatles song in my head even though I was supposed to focusing on my third eye. That mantra plus the bumper sticker were too much and I chortled. I closed my real eyes in case anyone was looking over, wondering what was so funny.

I didn’t mention that this is a Kundalini yoga class. I should have read the course description in advance but I chose not to. I had checked out the reviews of the studio online and they were overwhelmingly positive. I’m a big believer in trusting reviews and then not reading anything else. It’s a nice way to build surprise into your life as an adult. Trust reviews and then go in blind.

However, I did know a little bit about Kundalini, but by total accident. Some time ago I wrote about when I relax my head moves around on its own. In searching online I kept coming across a phenomena meditators call kriyas. It’s suggested that Kundalini is a powerful energy and sometimes, when awakened, makes the head shake like one is having an epileptic seizure (kriya). I filmed a video of me doing it, but it was too freaky to show you. Here’s the exact same thing happening to a woman meditating. The difference between her and me is that I’ve never meditated or done yoga.

My only point of reference for Kundalini was this head-shake video, so I assumed in the class I’d be sitting cross-legged with my head bobbing all over the place dropping in and out of trance.

Well, it turns out that Kundalini yoga is hard. And the opposite of peaceful. It’s basically the heavy-metal of yoga, and I suspect the word Kundalini translates in English to “What are you, a pussy?”

First, there is the breath of fire. It’s the Kundalini signature move. Using just the nose, breathe in and out as fast as you can. Try it for 20 seconds. Now, double the speed and do it for three more minutes without stopping. Now add in some core stomach exercise like scissor kicking your legs at warp speed. Don’t forget to sync your breath with the kicks. Oh, and don’t pay attention to your mind when it commands you to quit. Or your burning muscles. That’s not the Kundalini way. Push through like a warrior.

Up until this class, I had mistakenly assumed yoga was just a collection of standing poses where you salute a mountain or bow to the sea or stand like a hanging pine cone. Not Kundalini yoga. We never even made it to our feet. At one point, as a warm up, we sat cross-legged and lifted our fannies up an inch and then dropped them hard on the ground. Of course we were instructed to do this at 300 rpm all while doing breath of fire. It’s a privates destroyer, and my testicles were pretty upset about that exercise. They haven’t spoken to me since the class.

After the teacher destroyed my quads, stomach, and reproductive system, we were allowed to lay on our backs for 10 minutes. She came around and performed Reiki which basically meant touching my hair. I think it has to do with transferring energy through hands, but I didn’t feel anything magical. I kept thinking about how I hadn’t showered yet. I was sure the molding creme and sweat mixture on my coif was pretty gnarly and that she was probably fighting back vomit.

After the laying-of-the-hands she announced it was time to meditate. Kundalini meditation, it turns out, means “hard-core upper body workout.” We were instructed to flail our arms up and down as fast as we could, all while doing breath of fire. I had to stop at least a dozen times within three minutes. I’d give myself a two second break and then jump back in, only to be defeated moments later. The class ended and I was a sweaty mess.

I rolled up the mat that was still wet with my essence and I put it away. If anyone wants to clone me, grab a Q-tip and swab the studio’s purple mat with the flower on it. My DNA is all over that thing.

Did I enjoy my first yoga class? No. I’m not a sadist. But I do believe that it was worthwhile. And doing hard but worthwhile things is one of the best suggestions for a full life.

But, to be fair, even in the midst of all the insane breathing and exercising a few interesting thoughts came up. I got the notion to cook 5 lbs of italian beef and then 5 lbs of Chipotle-style chicken. I had never thought to do either, but when inspiration hits me, I obey. I drove directly to the grocery store.

My house smells like death right now with all the cooking. Plus, I never got around to showering.

I’m not sure satori is in my future, or if I’ll ever permanently open the third eye. But I’m going to keep going back and doing that one and other yoga classes. I just hope I don’t find myself in that one discipline where you blast farts all over the mat. I can do that all by myself, thank you.

photo credit: Side Stretch via photopin (license)