One of my all time favourites has been Yoga. I’m not the best, I’m not the worse, and my legs are never going to come up behind my ears, nor will my forehead touch the ground, when bending forward, no matter how close to the ground I find myself.
Still, the pleasure is much and it’s all about some exercise and being amongst others. There’s a new studio close to home, which I’ve joined, hoping to get there at least twice a week, if not three times. A challenge, but achievable.
Most practices start with the obligatory Oom’s, deep, vibrating and rather glorious to my ears. To the extent, I find it hard not to smile at how we all boom that ommmmmmmm out together. Now, at this studio, they like to do a bit of chanting. And it got me worried. Not because of any moral or religious or self-consciousness mind, no, more about whether my chant is lost in translation.
Take, for example, there I am, eyes closed, legs folded, amongst many, repeating oom shaka laka bing flow too, min coo – that’s what it sounds like to me! – which means something like “may peace be within me and let it flow beyond my soul to the world and beyond” when in fact my repeating (some 27 or 54 times) is better translated as “bring me a cup of beer and a sausage roll.”
I’ll try harder tomorrow to listen and repeat, but chances are the beer and a sausage roll will be on the mat once more.
Namaste, to you all – a lovely way to complete the practice, and perhaps Yoga’s way of saying, may the force be with you 🙂
If you have come across my blog, it’s here for me to write for 15 minutes without real purpose, thought or – at times – good grammar.