not in the mudra

shortly after moving back from spain, i tried out a local yoga studio, anxious to start practicing again and enthusiastic about contributing to a small business in the community.

it had been about three months since my last class in barcelona, which had been exactly one week before childbirth, as i had been going weekly to an amazing iyengar yoga class that was, coincidentally, directly behind our building. i could look out the window of our tiny loft and see, across rooftops, antennas and clotheslines, students in their little pouffy shorts, that reminded me of diaper covers, obediently moving their bodies from pose to pose. in class, i would hang upside down on the ropes, feeling like a bat with a belly full of butterflies, before resting on ten perfectly folded blankets and two precisely placed bolsters.

strange sounds were coming out onto the sidewalk from deep inside the studio, as panzón dropped me off. i walked inside and waited for them to stop, but when, after several minutes, they didn't, i peered behind the curtain, into the vibrating darkness. gradually before my eyes, a feminine figure appeared, moving intensely over some sort of box. the deep sounds came to a progressive halt, as she noted my presence. the crystal hanging between her eyebrows trembled as she calmly put away her instrument, which she explained was a traditional wooden portable harmonium brought all the way from india, but not by her, as she hadn't "made it there yet". her sedated speech agitated me, so i waited quietly for class to begin, which was about twenty minutes later.

the class was total crap, the instructor kept contortion-ing herself into complex positions in front of the mirror, not even checking to see if her three students were doing them correctly or hurting themselves. during relaxation, she talked on and on about floating up into the sky without losing our hold on the earth, blah blah blah. i was just glad it was almost over. ah-oh-mmmmmmm. namaste.

i jumped up and was quickly rolling my mat, when suddenly, my female yoga-mate shared that she had gone into a deep meditative state during relaxation and that she had felt the presence of her deceased brother-in-law in the room. apparently, he had put a hand on her and whispered that everything would be alright. i was right in the middle of rolling my eyes, when i heard my male yoga-mate starting to cry. he said that his wife had passed away recently and that she had made an apparition as well. the three of them shared a group hug and cried and held hands. i stared at them in disbelief, then felt uncomfortable and stared at the wall, which was painted blue with white clouds. i desperately wanted to leave, but knew the doors were locked for security reasons, and didn't want to interrupt their moment.

finally, there was a loud bang on the door and the instructor went to open it. i followed her in a hurry and was surprised to see panzón standing there. he had been worried, since i had taken longer than expected, and had gone looking for me, only to find locked doors and blacked out windows. he had been there for a while and was quite distressed. the yoga instructor looked at us like we were both neurotic freaks, let us out, and went back to her little séance.

i never went back.