I like to think of myself as a very even tempered person. A go-with-the-flow person. A yoga kind of person.
There isn't much in a yoga class that upsets me. The temperature is 95. No problem. The temperature is 65. No problem. The room has just been mopped and smells like strong toilet bowl cleaner. No problem. The room is so crowded that not only is Joe's butt is in my face, but his puddle of sweat is sliding onto my mat. No problem.
However, we all have our buttons. Mine have to do with the teacher or the music. Because I'm so resilient, it takes both to push them.
Pam taught today's lunch-time class. She is the niiiicest teacher (maybe second nicest. Simone was VERY nice, but she isn't there anymore.) Nice will get you a long way in yoga teaching. But Pam is scattered. She sometimes forgets if she's on the right side or the left. She forgets halves of sequences, leaving me feeling stretched out on one side and stiff on the other. Because she doesn't calibrate moves for both beginners and advanced students, new students become confused, frustrated and a little bent out of shape (literally).
But, did I mention that Pam is reeeeeealy nice? This is her money in the bank. At the beginning of class she puts eucalypus oil on our wrists. At the end she spritzes us with rose water. She has a beautiful voice, is pretty with a nice figure and smiles all the time.
She does not budget time very well either. When today's class was due to end in 10 minutes - that would the point when my arms are trembling and I'm having trouble standing upright Pam says, "I thought we'd do a little work at the wall." This means we have to pick up our mats, pick up our bodies, and find a new place to park them beside the window. I TRIED to do this. Really I did. I dragged my mat to the only spot left. Far in the corner. And then I heard it. VERY LOUDLY. Blaring into the room from the stereo speaker, was Very Bad Music.
Like many teachers in this studio, Pam plays music during class to amuse herself while soothing and inspiring the students. This makes no sense to me. The point of yoga practice is to focus on the breath and the body - to go within one's self and mine for gold. Somehow I am the only person there that finds music to be an affliction.
Being the even tempered person that I am, I decided that it would be alright if the second of my 40 days of yoga concluded 10 minutes early. Not a big deal. I understand that my music issues are unique. I pick up my mat (again), and head for the door. I try to avoid eye contact with Pam, who catches me anyway. "Are you alright?" I wave her away. I'm fine. She apologizes for the smell of cleaning solution in the room. She asks me to make sure the management hears what a problem it was. "Oh, I can deal with the smell. That's not a problem." Pam presses to know why I'm leaving early. I don't want to tell her. How can I explain about the noise and how hard it was to pick up my mat? By now I feel upset. I didn't want to move my mat to the corner where devils with pitch forks were coming out the the black box on the wall. I don't like her demanding, in front of the class, that I explain why my spiritual practice has been cut short. I was trying to just slink out the door, even if it meant missing the relaxing savasana. She presses hard enough that it bursts out, "I can't stand your music. It's just.....it's just.....YUCK!"
Hopefully tomorrow will be better....
My periodontist thinks it's a good idea to play music---any kind of music---while he's drilling on his patients, "to relax them". I always ask him to turn it off. People who aren't professional musicians themselves perhaps don't understand what kind of pull music exerts on us!
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