I’ve made no secret of the fact that I dislike yoga. Perhaps, though, “dislike” is the wrong word. I would hate to be thought one of those ridiculous examples of toxic masculinity that pretends that yoga is somehow emasculates a person. I would never claim that yoga is easy, or ineffective. Because it’s yoga’s very effectiveness that is one of the reasons that I dislike it.
Yoga works. Having been in a regular practice (pretty much daily) for several months now, I have seen definite benefits.
And I resent that, because I find yoga boring. I’m not sure why. I enjoy related exercise programs like Pilates or t’ai chi, and I’m no stranger to the idea of centering and focusing on breath and one’s body.
And every time I mention this to someone who is a yogi, I get the same litany of Have you tried… and they mention some ancient or new-fangled version of yoga practice. The answer, usually, is “yes.” I’ve tried kundalini, ashtanga, hatha, and yin (I find the latter to be the least boring, precisely because it doesn’t try to be anything but what it is). I refuse to try Bikram because I know too much about the culture, and I don’t want to do hot yoga because I already sweat enough.
You Can’t Keep an Old Dog Downward
But I still get up in the morning, I still unroll the mat, and I grumble while I look…
