Yoga, above all, is a drug.
I'm serious. Anything that can make you feel ecstatic and keep you coming back for more, by definition, is a drug.
And if we're all going with that definition of yoga, then I have been getting my fix regularly every Tuesday and Thursday for a little while; that is, until my dealer stopped working. (By dealer I mean teacher, sorry if I'm stretching this drug analogy a bit).
I always feel a-maze-ing after Amber's class. You know that "The Simpsons" episode where Mr. Burns took some drug to keep him alive, and as a side effect, he glowed like an alien and wandered around saying, "I bring you loooooooooooooove. I bring you peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeace" in a sing-songy voice? Well, if you know what I'm talking about, that's how I feel. (If you don't, click here)
Now that my favorite teacher is gone, in her place are other teachers, one with distinctly different styles, with which I'm having a hard time, a very hard time.
I like who she is as a person, but I cannot stand her teaching style.
I know, *super* unyogic of me, but I get very stressed out in her classes. It's true. My yoga class is stressing me out.
Showing posts with label yoga class. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga class. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)