The lights are turned off as we settle onto our mats and prepare for a concentrated class in yoga. The uninitiated yogi comes from another part of the gym, perhaps the weight machines, thinking incorrectly that he is in for a casual hour of stretching. Men can be extremely proficient in yoga with much practice, but first they must conquer their egotism and innate male conceit. Yoga initially seems to be more natural to women who are taught to be humble and flexible, the latter most literally and figuratively. When a man finally does overcome the inherent obstacle that a yoga pose constructs, he is a fine thing to behold indeed. Until then, I must suffer with the stray male in class who thinks it his duty to have a running commentary with guttural grunts as if he is the only one who is turned upside down while balancing his head on the ground, legs stretched out while holding his toes (wide leg forward bend). He becomes a little boy looking for his mommy’s approval for his hard work as he incorrectly balances with his back hunched like the disfigured in a freak show, desiring to appear that he is more limber than he really is.
I sense an apprentice as he sets up his mat behind me. The telltale signs of a beginner abound: not knowing how close to put his mat to mine, mimicking those around him unsuccessfully with moves that ensure minimum benefit and probable injury. Then I sense that I am the main point of his focus as I see in the periphery of my vision that he is following my moves. I imagine him joking earlier with his weight lifting buddies that he is going to yoga while a lot of nudging and eye winking goes on. My eyes half close as my plan crystallizes. I take my leisurely stretch to its limit and hear behind me a grumble as my new protégée follows suit. A deep breath and I achieve another inch and a half followed by his low moan as he begins to comprehend his shortcomings. We begin a sun salutation as our heart rate and breathing increase and the body behind me realizes that this is not his grandmother’s yoga class. Still attempting to ogle, he balances precariously in Half Moon briefly with one arm and one leg in the air until he falls onto my mat. My gaze stays steady on my reflection in the mirror as I witness my most beautiful expression of the pose that I have ever done. My leg has a height that only the most self-righteous competition could inspire. While he struggles, my cool disgust turns to enjoyment. A series of balances ensues as we are taken to our limits, even the most practiced muscles shake while holding our bodies aloft. My foot becomes the root that reaches into the ground as my arms reach like braches to the sky in Tree. The sapling behind me is blown over by the racing thoughts of his mind. My legs bend deeply into a wide-legged squat as my arms stretch out like an arrow focused on its target in Proud Warrior. The wannabe behind me quickly snaps his arrow in half as he pitches forward. We go down to the floor and I feel him relax as if the hard part is over so I increase the stakes. My form is perfect; I didn’t know I had such depths of stretch within me. He tries to quiet his groans but they escape him before he knows it because he is not listening to his body but trying to keep up with me. Have I not sufficiently expressed my expertise? Is he so pompous to think he can keep up with me? I take a deep breath and deliver the final blow. A terrified gasp behind me has halted his practice; frozen, he holds his leg as we continue to the next pose. He slowly rises to his feet and gathers his shoes and his mat. He limps towards the door, holding his leg. A snail moves faster. I fall deeply into my pose. I close my eyes, fully satisfied. Certainly, he has learned his lesson. Maybe next time he will approach that which he does not know with a little more reverence. Hopefully, he will be more humble; he will not mess with me again.
Tags: apprentice, competition, egotism, flexibility, gym rats, Half Moon, humility, lessons, male conceit, new age, Proud Warrior, sun salutation, Tree, yoga, yogi
