today i have an audition for yoga-girl…or rather yoga~instructor~girl.

should be a no-brainer. i’m a girl {woman? lady? broad? gal?}

i am an instructor:….pilates, spin, barre, some yoga, very little yoga actually, but i do take yoga.

sort of.

let me explain.

yoga is my thai food. i LOVE thai food. can’t get enough of it. but i have to be in the right mood for it. i have to be absolutely, stomach growling, starving for the curry, lime, lemongrass coterie of noodles pad thai’d. otherwise you’re forcing a well hydrated horse to drink. same with yoga, my body {with all her bruises and special needs} likes to thirst for the deep backbends and sweeping movements of vinyasa. and lately my limbs and spine have fancied more of a pilates rehab rather than the virabhadrasana 1 ilk, nevertheless i try to make a date, once a week with my sticky mat.

one thing i DO take away from all my downward dog sessions is a deeper sense of self, a truer heart, and an expanded, more inspired mind. my talented instructors always have the ability to unearth a meaningful, more authentic piece of my soul needing to emerge. for instance, during yesterday’s “practice”, while our hot-bodied, raquel welch-beautiful yogi, guided the rest of class into hand stands and arm balances, my use of profanity and name calling took on a whole new ardor and ingenuity that can only stem from yoga class:






{in through the nose, out through the nose}.

and all this anger at someone i love and adore. someone who, out of my omgirl nomad leggings, i call a dear friend, someone i’d break bread with {fresh from the oven sourdough for me, raw ezekiel spelt for her}; a give a ride to the airport kind of friend, but ask me to throw my legs up in the air….and i don’t care how friggin nice or pretty you are….i’ll cut you!

there’s something about balancing on my arms and going upside down….i lose my head and my air. all i can feel is my left hamstring, right rotator cuff, my aunt’s cancer, court on wednesday, the 750, ooo dying in somalia, my neighbor’s brain tumor, my friends’ turmoil over their son, another aunt’s broken heart, my father. i need an oxygen tank to breathe.

the flow flies away, the fear soars in.

child’s pose.

if yesterday’s class told me anything it’s that i’m in dire need of my yoga. my brain is a bounce house of fret and un-focus, my body is  broken down and walloped.

i’m return to the mat a true humble warrior.