...not even, I'm sure of it, when you are certified and locked up in a padded room. I was at the Yoga Studio as is expected from a dedicated Yogi looking to finally commit to seeing one thing through to the very end when I noticed the studio manager, a man of few words - all of them curt and scathing - looking very dapper indeed.
I want to rewind a few weeks here to hang a bit of context onto what follows. A few weeks ago, I discovered that this man used to be married to the studio director but in true Yogic fashion, there being no judgement and certainly no ignominy when it comes to releasing the mula bandha in front of 25 strangers - I didn't really think too much of it outside of the obvious: "oh, that's interesting? but they are not married anymore?" No. "And they are still civil?" Oh absolutely in fact weeks after separating - the defendant signed on to the very same teacher training course you're on, that is, as you know, run by the very same director then as it is now. " How very dignified." I thought. He has been a partner in the business ever since - this is now a few years on I hasten to add.
And with that I lowered into my Downward Dog and engaged the Ujjayi breath.
OK, so fast forward a few weeks (from discovering their unusual history) when I noticed a usually very natural studio director (the woman in these proceedings) looking very polished indeed - the kind that required animal testing. She had dyed her hair a sultry red and was wearing eye shadow!! - can I just quickly at this point interject and remind everyone this is a hot yoga studio where the rooms are pre-headed to 40 degrees and where no cosmetic makes it past the first stretch - so of course my curiousity was further aroused. I took a closer look.
Now, I may have lost the will to live many moons ago and along with it any trickle of libido but I know a snog rash when I see it. (Snog = make-out in English). Oh joy! there is hope for me yet!
So now back to the present....said chin rash director takes off on a short sabbatical to do yogic things in exotic places and is due back today. I know this because the studio manager, the usually grumpy old man who would just as happily turn up to work wearing his pyjamas was gallantly picking her up at the airport looking like Paul McCartney the day he was given the MBE.
So, my conclusion; hope springs eternal. I say, it's like something out of 50s Hollywood. I do hope I've got my sums right on this one because I do love happy endings. Now all I need is a similar story for me and I'll should be ok until Christmas.
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