As of late yoga playlists seem to have taken on a purple persuasion. It’s strange. Weeks before your passing I was listening to you on a daily. And now you’re gone.
I hate the celebrity tributes and calculated wording by publicists representing those who never represented you. I hate the coolness of others as they try to hip folk to that which is optimistic when really it’s just another post about themselves.
I weeped in class the other day because I’m still not ready to share my loss with strangers. Not in that moment. Not in that setting. Yoga didn’t help that day. Nor did I bend hope or expectation in an upward direction silently wishing for your return. I looked up anyway. You were not there.
So I carry you with me. Forever in my heart. No matter how heavy the vibe gets. I love you Prince…
Yoga is hard enough. Shit like this makes it even harder. No amount of focused breathing or meditative state can free up the vibe when there are constant disruptions.
- Music is too loud. Hey! guru I’m talking to you. I can’t hear you.
- Body odor. Yogis, wash your ass before coming to class.
- Dirty feet. It’s no treat especially when our mats meet.
- Fragrance is no romance. Ya’ killin’me loudly with da’ patchouli Julie.
- Circus freaks. Acrobats who ain’t in the know and go opposite of the flow.
- Boot camp troupe. Counting down. 1..2…3…Wait! Is this a gym class?
- Monotone zone. Guru, descend from your throne. Falling asleep over here. I am not alone.
- Yogi chatter. Way too much of it. And y’all hella loud. Respect the space upon entering and leaving. Quietly.
I could go on. But it’s 5:37 in the a.m. Need a few hours of sleep before reaching for my next steep.
I will say this. My reluctance to join a yoga studio has not only been because of the exorbitant monthly fees. A greater portion of it is because yoga studios have incorporated so much fitness that it attracts that gym class competitive attitude amongst their clients. No bueno.
It shows a lack of respect and regard for the practice. And it’s annoying as funk. I like when I walk into a studio and I read signs that encourage people to disconnect from the outside once they come inside. But it’s not very often. I’ll let that one sink in. No trend.
Been gettin’ my chaturanga on, as of late, at Yoga Salt in Culver City. Groovy flow. Shoulder heavy. Keepin’ the vibe steady.
After yoga. Happy hour. The other one. Post workout recovery vibe. Although I don’t view yoga as a workout. And never will. But that’s a conversation to be had on a Wednesday in the second month of June. Besides I’ve lent out all of the blue soapboxes for the day. Dig on your inner peace. There is no lease. Only life. Not channeling Buddha. More like booyah! I’m gon.’
lots of spinach
Sun Warrior protein(chocolate)
unsweetened vanilla almond milk
Ate and drank ridiculously crazy yesterday. Me and the Easter bunny. Running buddies fo’ life. Another groovy Sunday for the books.
Decided to give my system a much needed break today. No solids. Mostly water, green tea with lemon and a small bag of trail mix. That was this morning’s vibe.
Lunch was a quart of apple, kiwi, banana and kale and a new book I picked up yesterday. Felt good to sit in the sun and read. Casually sippin’ on all things green.
Headed to yoga after work. Taking it slow. Letting my system find it’s natural flow again. Dig.
After a hip opening while using lots of props Flow Basics yoga class with Molly over at Wanderlust Hollywood I was starved. Headed over to Urban Masala for some Indian grub.
Snagged a masala bowl with rice, saag tofu and Chana masala. It was all kinds of steamy fresh tasting deliciousness. Completely demolished it.
Added two samosas on the side. They were more than just a little overdone. Kinda sucks because I love samosas. Managed to scrape out the insides. Dig tamarind sauce. Hold the mint. Only my second visit. Will be back. I’m a sucker for fluffy rice and perfectly spiced chickpeas.
Shaping our bodies tends to take precedence over shaping our minds, developing our spirits. We’d rather hear compliment after compliment being given on our taunt muscles or indestructible abs. Or at least what appears to be so. Never really giving much thought to anything else because it becomes a cycle of praise and reward our ego seeks.
You tell yourself I workout for me. It’s a lifestyle not a diet. Health is wealth. And all that other bullshit because it sounds good. And although the above is true it doesn’t mean squat if the people you’re hitting with that spiel on a daily can’t see you. I mean truly see you.
Your soul. Your passion. Where is it? Your genuine interest in helping others reach their own goals by facing life’s obstacles head on. What happened to it? Whether you’re a trainer, fitness instructor or just a fit person at work who people seek advice on just about everything diet and workout related. Know that these conversations are not about you. So don’t make them about you.
Listen with your heart and mind. Don’t interject. Teach with passion and patience. Don’t just focus on those who look like you and disregard others. Intentional or not. Body size and weight don’t mean shit if your spirit ain’t fit.
Took a few classes at Wanderlust Hollywood yoga studio. Snagged a Groupon offer for first time students. 30 days of unlimited yoga for $40. My kind of deal. Practicing downward dog on a regular basis is expensive. At least in LA.
Hangin’ out for Yoga Lounge tonight. Molly O’Neill is on the mat. Should be groovy. Dope space. Eco vibes abound. And that’s always cool.
It’s been months since my last yoga class. Sorta fell outta love with it after a year of practicing. Various studios. Too much rock and roll let’s see how far I can bend into this posture Hollywood shit. Call me corny but I really dig yoga for the whole mind releasing spirit restoring vibe. Also to gain a deeper insight into my own emotional baggage. Years of parked planes. Too much weight for one person to bear. Wheels up. Time to fly Shon.
Gonna hang out at Bikram Yoga Marina Del Rey for a few weeks. See how things go. Flow. Good class with Ryan this morning. Challenging. Felt no pressure to be super yogi. Spotted a few capes. Unbothered. Modified where I could. Managed my breath when I could remember. Think my fave go to green helped. It never fails to keep me hydrated. Exactly what you need for 90 minutes in 105 degrees. Drink up!
The past plagues us all. It’s like an unwanted breath on the neck when someone is hinting at romance while your body language suggests they pop a couple of Altoids. Over the years I’ve made a game of running from mine. Only to find myself thrown headlong back into that which I’d proposed was now behind me. Days. Months. Years. Matters not how long it takes. The past will always remain present if you don’t deal with shit. I mean really deal with it.
I use to find comfort in its embrace. Settling for that which is familiar. Expecting it to find me as it had once left me. Broken. Unhinged. All too compromising. Even giddy at times at the very thought of someone else zeroing in on me when clearly they were just making room for their own landing.
As of late I find myself more willing to write about what has already happened instead of letting it remain present in my energy space. It’s a healthier approach. One that is more honest. It also takes the power of who or what represents such away. Leaving me more aware yet unaffected. And that is the goal. At least for me. Y’all still gonna have to wait for the movie.