You're Not the Spiritual Boss of Me.

I recently received a gift pass to attend a little exercise called “ Hot Yoga”. I have heard many of you rave about it so even though I was skeptical to say the least, I decided to give it a go. First of all, yoga is hard, I’m okay with that, in fact I have a perfectly wonderful yoga teacher that has me working up a sweat without raising the thermometer. Why, oh why would you take an activity that already raises the internal temp and throw it in a 100 degree room??


It’s not just that extreme heat irritates me, it actually scares me. Not sure what I think will happen, perhaps I will burst into flames? I entered the lobby, filled with lots of chakras and cha cha’s for sale along with over priced yoga gear that you are virtually going to ruin with copious amounts of sweat.


The class room itself had a sign announcing that once you crossed over, there was no talking. Again, I flashed back to my treasured yoga teacher who welcomed a nice gab session as we settled into our spots. Just a little friendly chit chat before we got down to it. As I opened the door, I was immediately smacked in the face with heat. Heavy, static, heat. If I were lying on a beach that was this hot, I would go inside.


I found my way to the corner and lay on the floor with my fellow inmates. I started to sweat before I even closed my eyes. I don’t know about you but if I lie down in a hot, dark room with strict instructions not to talk to anybody, I go to sleep. The instructor arrived, a bit perky for the task at hand I noted. She rattled through some spiritual 101 on finding our centre and releasing the stresses of life outside the lava cave. She then warned that even though she liked to “crank” the music, we should not be distracted and keep our thoughts on our breathing. Who invited Phil Collins to the hot yoga class?? I’ll say, “there’s something in the air tonight”.


I gamely went through the standing poses, the warrior series, the flow as our instructor nattered on. I mean she didn’t stop for a breath! I was sweating like a pig. I have never experienced sweating this much. When I put my hands in front of me for child’s pose, they slid across the mat and I banged my forehead. It was like being on an ice rink in slippers.


As I looked around the room, (okay I lost my focus for a moment ) the majority of the participants seemed fine. Some even looked happy. The instructor told us we should look happy. Not giddy but peaceful. So now I was trying to imagine how to adjust my face to comply which kinda took me out of the moment again.


About 10 minutes before the end of the class, right around the bridge move, the room started to spin. Jesus, I’m going to pass out. I turned over and laid on my mat, trying to find my centre. My centre was swinging to the right, left, upside down. I was nauseous, really stinkin hot and needed to get out of dodge. As quietly as I could, I gathered my things and got the hell out of there.


As I was splashing my face with cold water in the change room, the instructor appeared in the mirror. She looked peaceful yet agitated.

We really need you to stay in the room until the end of class, she asserted passively.

But, I was going to pass out or throw up, I countered.

Well you can’t leave the building until the class is over because there is no one to lock the door behind you.

I just want to get out of here.

You can’t until the class is finished.

Okay, I’ll wait in the lobby” I compromised.

I stood in the darkened lobby and pined for my car that sat just out of reach in the parking lot. I noticed a book on the bench titled , “ You are Here” I was pretty sure it wasn’t meant in the spirit of the maps in a mall, that help you locate where you need to be. This was the much deeper concept of “You are Here”. Problem was, I wanted to be there. I wanted to go home.

The class ended shortly after and the instructor hurried out to continue our conversation.

Did you drink 8 glasses of water before class?

If I drank 8 glasses of water before class, I would have to pee by standing tree.

You will find it very empowering if you stay and work through the dizziness. You will realize you aren’t going to die and it will give you an inner strength, she advised.


I’m not sure we have the same objective here, I want to experience a great class but I don’t necessarily have to leave empowered and I really don’t want to feel like I’m being held hostage in a yoga practice, I shrilled a bit.

Clearly, we weren’t on the same page. I don’t discount a spiritual existence by any means. I just don’t like a guided spiritual experience. I have taken skads of dance classes that I find spiritual , same with yoga or any kind of movement really. Thing is, if you let the movement guide you, the spiritual experience will take care of itself. To me, its personal, neither instructors or Phil Collins need to weigh in.

She kept insisting I make the connection until I said, You have to respect what my experience is and not worry about what you think it needs to be.

I know what you’re thinking. Shut up and don’t go if it bothers you so much. You are right, who needs to leave a yoga class frustrated and pissy. Well apparently , I do. As the saying goes, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the hot yoga kitchen.

Rent a Family

Another feckin holiday. Another opportunity to cast back to years of family tradition, 14 people squeezed around the dining table, over done vegetables, cold turkey, minced tarts and 3 -hour clean up sessions. God I miss it.

Since my parents passed away 7 years ago, my family has mostly scattered. The traditions of Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter are long gone. I have tried with varying degrees of success to reinvent the holidays for my self and my son. Initially, I looked upon the challenge as a fresh start, with images of my favorite friends and family, clustered around my table, conversations tripping over each other and laughter ringing through the house. I don’t know who does the dishes but in this fantasy, it doesn’t matter. There isn’t a second of wasted air space, the good will and warm fuzzy feeling could be bottled and sold!

I have strong- armed a couple friends to come to my table with their families on previous holidays and it has been pretty great but unlike a real family, their commitment to the event can only be fleeting. You never get them on the actual day as they have their own family commitments, so you have to fudge that one. It’s makeshift, who are we kidding. Okay, I’m holding out. I could drive up north and force myself on one of my 80 odd cousins family dinners but the only thing more powerful than my whining is my profound laziness.

So, as I face another holiday dinner, I am licking my wounds and trying to nail down a more permanent solution for myself and my son. It’s not that his company isn’t enough, its just that as a parent of an only child, I feel it is vital that he experiences the joy, frustration, exhaustion and full on trauma that only a really great family holiday dinner can offer.

Surely, I can’t be the only one out there in this predicament. So what if we band together and rent ourselves out to families in need of a really good old fashioned stressful holiday dinner. Or we just commit to our own mock family.

With a little research and the proper casting, this could work. We meet 3 or 4 times a year on strategic celebrations. I’m throwing in a July 1st BBQ for good measure.

Wish list ;
-Must not be currently attached to any other family holiday get togethers
-Ideally, you are the one who is added on to other people’s family events
-Not too keen or well balanced, must come with well honed baggage
-It would be an advantage if you could be good at at least one dish that you can be counted on to supply every year
-Non-drinkers need not apply
-Need a carver, preferably male with a god complex but am willing to work around that
-Kids welcome, but no big dogs
-Elderly people are encouraged to apply, pick up and home delivery will be negotiated
-At least one member who is a know it all. Braggart could also do
-No need for a turkey skin hogger, we have that covered
-Couple with laborious vacation stories and pictures
-Perfectionist, control freak. Someone who will take over in the kitchen when things start to go south
-Someone who is able to hold Olympian grudges. Don’t disclose the grudge but make sure it simmers just under the surface so all other attendees are slightly on guard

That should cover it. Now, here is what I can bring to the table;

-Middle aged female, can cook but shouldn’t be depended on to lay out a great meal.
-Can be the laugh of the party if need be but also excels at being passive aggressive or just plain aggressive
- Able to fall asleep on the couch before and after dinner
-Willing to fly into a rage if anyone makes jokes about weight gain
-Will ensure she drinks more wine than the other guests but will also bring her own
-Will yawn and start to drift if the conversation turns to politics at any time
-Though will help with dishes, she won’t do a very good job so you may have to do them again after she leaves.
-Comes with a 14 year old boy complete with raging hormones
-Won’t tolerate any vacation pictures or family games. By that I mean board games not head games of course

If you fit the bill, let’s talk. You are only expected to show up at the scheduled events. No contact between holidays is encouraged beyond a quick face book like now and then. Oh, and no presents, this is all about the meal and only about the meal.
Happy Easter!