29 September - Women, they talk too much - p2
Well, yes, am aware of the irony of having a part 2 on this post, clearly I also write too much....
Recently I went to a yoga one-to-one with a new teacher I like and she told me so much about herself even though I was making the right signs about leaving, you know, jacket on, bag on shoulder, standing next to door, opening door to hallway (we were in her flat). Well, she’s trained as an actor before turning to yoga so it does fit my mental pigeonhole that they mostly are people who desperately need yoga calming them down or saving them from various addictions. M. told me she has also written a screenplay about a yoga teacher, how very postmodern and she arrived frazzled at one session and wanting to calm down she told me the Jubilee line was not working, and about the taxi driver who asked her what she teaches and she didn't want to say as she was not the picture of a yoga teacher but a madly stressed person (she was coming from her group therapy session don't you know) and btw, there's a scene just like that one in her screenplay. Then she told me about her Iranian father and the near rape in India with her friend and the 4 guys with long knives/swords and and and ... I'd already said I was ok, hadn't minded waiting too much but I really had to be out of there by 9.30 so, er, can we get on with it? I sympathised and had, in woman's communication etiquette, tell her how a mugging left me pretty nerved shakey many years ago and I wasn’t hurt either but yeah, it stays with you so had you had real violence done to you there’s no way you’d recover that fast or well but it’s all so much and now we have to chant the darn prayer which I will never learn and she insists in making me repeat line by line after her. I only want to learn the moves, not the philosophy of it, or rather I know the philosophy (roughly) and take what I want from it, not the prayer please. Thank god I nipped in the bud any suggestion of chanting to her altar.
Where was I? Oh yes,
So later on that evening at movie with friends Toph mentions this lush yoga retreat paradise in the forest of Thailand that you reach by trek, boat and the rest, and how we could go there at Xmas/new year and I find myself surprisingly sanguine about not wanting to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with no escape routes and having to make friends with crazy people, there ain’t a single one who’s regular in my experience, not talking about yoga pupils but yoga teachers in general and plus it’s just too claustrophobic. And yes, you have to make friends because if you don’t, you’re a stuck up bitch and not in the spirit of yoga (and because I'm not really a stuck up bitch I would care that this opinion is formed, rather than not giving a damn) and despite having a blog believe me in real life am a little reluctant to just off load my life onto strangers and just listening would drive me mad. So I tell Toph we can both go to Bangkok and then he goes to retreat and I go to … beach frequented by well fit Israeli military boys and just read and ogle to my heart’s content. I may have to murder the odd juggler or those ones who juggle long bands of fabric or flags but at least they don’t talk and I can look the other way. Or ask them to move from my eyeline.
It surprises me that Toph wants to go on yoga holiday being that it was upon his return from one in Ibiza that he got finally dumped by the ex g/friend. Must mean he was not as traumatised as one would think.
Recently I went to a yoga one-to-one with a new teacher I like and she told me so much about herself even though I was making the right signs about leaving, you know, jacket on, bag on shoulder, standing next to door, opening door to hallway (we were in her flat). Well, she’s trained as an actor before turning to yoga so it does fit my mental pigeonhole that they mostly are people who desperately need yoga calming them down or saving them from various addictions. M. told me she has also written a screenplay about a yoga teacher, how very postmodern and she arrived frazzled at one session and wanting to calm down she told me the Jubilee line was not working, and about the taxi driver who asked her what she teaches and she didn't want to say as she was not the picture of a yoga teacher but a madly stressed person (she was coming from her group therapy session don't you know) and btw, there's a scene just like that one in her screenplay. Then she told me about her Iranian father and the near rape in India with her friend and the 4 guys with long knives/swords and and and ... I'd already said I was ok, hadn't minded waiting too much but I really had to be out of there by 9.30 so, er, can we get on with it? I sympathised and had, in woman's communication etiquette, tell her how a mugging left me pretty nerved shakey many years ago and I wasn’t hurt either but yeah, it stays with you so had you had real violence done to you there’s no way you’d recover that fast or well but it’s all so much and now we have to chant the darn prayer which I will never learn and she insists in making me repeat line by line after her. I only want to learn the moves, not the philosophy of it, or rather I know the philosophy (roughly) and take what I want from it, not the prayer please. Thank god I nipped in the bud any suggestion of chanting to her altar.
Where was I? Oh yes,
So later on that evening at movie with friends Toph mentions this lush yoga retreat paradise in the forest of Thailand that you reach by trek, boat and the rest, and how we could go there at Xmas/new year and I find myself surprisingly sanguine about not wanting to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with no escape routes and having to make friends with crazy people, there ain’t a single one who’s regular in my experience, not talking about yoga pupils but yoga teachers in general and plus it’s just too claustrophobic. And yes, you have to make friends because if you don’t, you’re a stuck up bitch and not in the spirit of yoga (and because I'm not really a stuck up bitch I would care that this opinion is formed, rather than not giving a damn) and despite having a blog believe me in real life am a little reluctant to just off load my life onto strangers and just listening would drive me mad. So I tell Toph we can both go to Bangkok and then he goes to retreat and I go to … beach frequented by well fit Israeli military boys and just read and ogle to my heart’s content. I may have to murder the odd juggler or those ones who juggle long bands of fabric or flags but at least they don’t talk and I can look the other way. Or ask them to move from my eyeline.
It surprises me that Toph wants to go on yoga holiday being that it was upon his return from one in Ibiza that he got finally dumped by the ex g/friend. Must mean he was not as traumatised as one would think.
posted by Lisa Taylor @ 9:26 AM
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