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sunshine jen: Scented Candles
I have a love/hate thing going on with yoga classes. I’ve had some good ones and some real clunkers. Last week, I went to a clunker. It had scented candles---NINE scented candles.
Even though Jen in a yoga class can be some pretty wacky physical comedy, I do appreciate the benefits of yoga and the challenges of it. I believe in healthy body/healthy mind and all that good stuff.
However, unlike other exercise related stuff, yoga attracts a wide range of teachers. I don’t know why some people decide to become yoga teachers. Did they just not succeed as actors/dancers?
The first time I took yoga, the class was in a boxing gym. The instructor kept talking about ‘in with the good air and out with the bad air’. I just wanted to hit things. The instructor was also a toucher, and that made me want to hit him. So much for yoga.
Last year, I took a great yoga class at the local community college. The instructor was a tiny force of positive energy. Most of the students in the class were older women who had never taken a yoga class before and weren’t afraid to grunt or murmur ‘Christ’ when it got hard for them. But then, the positive instructor had to have a baby.
So I’ve been looking around for a new yoga class. When I stumbled on a yoga studio in my neighborhood, I decided to try it out. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the scented candles, but I took several deep breaths and relaxed. I was going to relax and try new things, darn it.
Even though the class started off with chanting accompanied by a portable organ which reminded me of Catholic School, I was still going to try. I was a flower opening to the sunlight. I was feeling the cosmic power of the universe.
DAMN IT! THOSE CANDLES SMELL AWFUL!
Breathe. Breathe. I’m like a bird. I’ll only fly away. I’m out of this world come with me to my planet. Get you on my level. Do you think you can handle it? Breathe. Breathe. Promiscuous girl. Breathe.
We started doing the exercises. The instructor moved things along quickly. His organ playing was just a ruse. He really was a masochist. It was tough, but I got to sweat, so I was happy.
But the candles were killing me. As my chest opened up and I started taking deeper breaths (that’s a good thing), the candles’ stench scraped down my throat. Once we finished our relaxing cool down, I bolted from there. I ran out into the cool Los Angeles night air, so I could finally breathe.
I later learned that I had gone to the only class that uses candles at this particular studio.
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