Every three or four years, I decide that I will take yoga (again) and I become very enthused about it.
In most recent history my very best friend and I signed up, resolutely showing up each Wednesday evening and not bunking off to go for a drink instead which is something that happens with great regularity whenever we usually decide to take a class together.
I love the idea of yoga; I love the notion of achieving balance and harmony within the body, I love the swooningly clean scent of Nag Champa incense that they light at the beginning of our class and then the much anticipated conclusion where we each lay beneath our own rug, perfectly still, palms upwards and others, less tightly wound than myself, begin to snore and bleat gently in the background as they give themselves up to the moment.
On one particular evening as we all had our foreheads lowered to the mats, a thunderous bugle-like sound was distinctly heard from the back of the room where clearly, no one’s vehicle was backfiring and there seemed no reason to suppose that anyone was doing the Downward Dog on a pair of amplified whoopee cushions.
We were therefore led to believe that someone in the class - we knew not whom – had just released a volcanic toot and that everyone else in the class was carrying on as though nothing at all had occurred.
That is, until our elderly and most learned yoga instructor said in a loud, praising voice:
“Yes! Yes, that’s right Ba-Ba! Let it out! Let it go! Barbara is just as relaxed as she can be!”
My best friend and I shared sideways, slitty-eyed glances that signified immense laughter was being necessarily swallowed down but since we are no longer 11 years old we kept it together, focusing our attention instead on the seams of our yoga mats which can be very linty indeed …
Incidentally, I couldn’t help feeling at the time that not only was the newly identified “Barbara” no longer relaxed but that she would not be attending any future classes.
And, she did not.
I am not sure what the moral of this story is – if any – but as the New Year begins and I contemplate yet another yoga class and all its new variants (hot yoga/sculpting yoga/yoga studio yoga) I fondly think of Barbara once more and wonder if she moved to another city after this or if she is living a full and happy life - without yoga.
