I was pretty quiet during my Alexander Technique lesson today.
I tried to be helpful when I entered yoga and helpfully I ran my keytag past the scanner without assistance.
“You just checked yourself into the pregnancy class,” said the woman behind the desk.
“That’s OK,” I responded. “Half of them are mine anyway.”
“Just what we need,” said the other woman behind the desk. “Off-color humor at yoga.”
A lot of people ask me at yoga how I reconcile my yoga with my Orthodox Judaism.
“I don’t,” is my favorite response. I prefer to respect the integrity of the two systems and I don’t bother with integrating them. I have next to no interest in Jewish mysticism and next to no interest in the theory behind the yoga I’m doing.
I don’t take yoga that seriously. I do it because it feels good. It’s a pleasant change from my hovel. Yoga smells good, looks good, is filled with good-looking people, and everybody is nice to me and I don’t feel like a right wally there.
