A rose by any other name / by vanessa

Missouri got their ass kicked by Texas last night. Those of you who know me know that I ALWAYS root for Texas. Except when they're playing Mizzou.


There's a yoga teacher in Santa Barbara whom I adore. His name is Eddie Ellner and he owns this studio Yoga Soup.   He's challenging, sweet, and just chill.   So when my friend S invited me to her aunt's art opening in SB this weekend I quickly said yes, thinking I could catch Eddie's class.  And I did.  Except he wasn't teaching.  Which immediately put me in a bad mood.  Which I really tried to avoid since I hate subbing for people and having students roll their eyes when they find out their teacher wasn't teaching. 

I'm one of those kooky people who don't believe in coincidences so I'm sure I was meant to take a class from this girl, and I know there's some yoga lesson here, like say, acceptance... and still?  I hated it.  Sorry.  Just gonna say it.  I tend to favor simple, concise direction minus all the flowery and/or clinical yoga speak.  If you ask me repeatedly to engage mula bandha, I want a reason.  A good reason.  And when you say "[my] breath should be elliptical" a) I think of an exercise machine and b) I feel like you just picked up a thesaurus when you were bored one day.  Plus, I want to go to yoga and feel like when you say, "beautiful" you're saying it because you really see it and not just because you're happy that students followed your instruction.

I'm pretty sure this is horrible karma for me, especially since I teach.  I should tell you (and not because I'm trying to outsmart said karma) that I think you can get something out of every yoga class -- that you always leave in a better place or at least a more balanced place than when you walked in.  I got that fo' sho'.   What's my point here?  I don't really have one.  I feel like a dick for posting this, and yet, here I go.