hot yoga

I HATE hot yoga. Hate it.

Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

To an Ashtanga purist, hot yoga is cheating, a lazy man's (or woman's) way to sweat with less work.

And what about the guy who struts into the studio shirtless and in short shorts only to do power push-ups before class to warm up. I ugh those people.

The teacher who says - I haven't seen you in a while - bad! Ugh her.

Even the ommm was all wrong - it reminded me of cows intentionally trying to not be in synch.

The smelly sauna room with 25 people squeezed in mat-to-mat with hot hot hot air blasting out of the vents right into your lungs (it seems), which are gasping for some air. I had to leave the room in the middle of class to breath some freshly recycled office building air out in the hallway.

I had specifically (re)tried this hot yoga studio for this class, which is a type of yoga NOT practiced as hot yoga, and on the schedule specifically not mentioned as hot although the other classes were. After class I asked the teacher who said it was a hot yoga studio, which makes sense only if the studio was hot and they didn't turn on the air, but makes no sense if they blast hot air into your lungs purposefully.

That studio is dead to me. And if I'd forgotten how strongly I feel about hot yoga, that was a clear reminder forever seared into my lung tissue.

So unnatural. Why do we have to suffer and be pushed past the limits to feel like we're fulfilled? Yoga and meditation help one focus on the moment, on fulfillment not through the exciting moments in life, but in the normal times of life. Not when you are travelling, but when you are home living normal life. Not when you are distracted, but when your life is empty. Not in the noise and chaos, but in the silence.

So why is there music (teacher's choice forced on the class) during class? Ugh it.