Dahn Cult
So I went to this free yoga class on Saturday afternoon at Dahn yoga.
I’d passed the place before, but had never seen anyone else in there. Plus, I'm into vinyasa and their classes seem pretty basic and more hatha-based then I'm used to. Then, well. You know about the loss of my two karma yoga classes a week. So this time when I saw the notice about the free class, I thought I’d try it.
When I came in they had me fill out a basic form—name; address; etc. Then the woman—dressed in loose clothes—led me into the back room where three other women were lying on their backs with their eyes closed. It felt like the back room of a store in a suburban strip mall. Really. No windows. Bright florescent lights. There were white boards on one wall. And on the other computer printouts with basic yoga poses—cat stretch; standing forward bend--were scotch-taped to the paint. In the front were what looked like regular household blinds except a mountain formation—something that looked like this—was printed on it. Soft ambient music played softly in the background.
It felt soothing. Or at least an accurate facsimile of serenity.
We did a series of really basic poses—the most strenuous thing was the seated front stretch. Still, one of the women in the front row kept saying she was lightheaded. (Granted, she was pretty obese, so chances are the exercises probably were quite a challenge for her.)
Throughout the instructor kept saying a lot of stuff about energy—energy blocked; energy released—but not in any really coherent way. (Her accent, unfortunately, was so bad that I lost about every third word so that might have added to my perception of her as rambling and unfocused.) Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to be dismissive or anything. I’ve encountered people really into the charkas before and think there’s probably some kind of basis to it. Acupuncture, for example, which targets energy channels in the body, has really helped my mother--who can't take pain relievers for a variety of reasons--deal with her chronic back pain from degenerative disc disorder. Plus. There are people and places that just ooze negative or positive energy. Just hang out with a really bitter ex-wife for an evening and you’ll see what I mean. But. Well. There was this exchange: while we were shaking our arms, trying to loosen our wrists, I shivered. She said, “You’re cold.” “Yup,” I concurred. “That’s the energy leaving your body,” she said. “Or maybe you’ve just got the air conditioning on too high,” I said.
Afterwards we all sat in a circle. A middle-aged woman in a white karate outfit came in carrying a tray with 5 teacups. We drank tea together, bowing to each other and the instructor. It was quite nice. A beautiful little ritual. And then. It was like we’d been circled and the Big Sales Pitch began. “Which package are you going to buy?” She asked each of us in turn. The 3-month package for $450 or the one-year $2500? Trying to reel us in and all. The four of us looked at each other and then at the instructor, all blank-faced. Was she really trying to coerce us into a sale? (Sure. I should have known. The old TimeShare bait and pitch.) She got up and left the room for a few minutes. One of the other women—the obese one—said she loved the class and wished she could do this every week but she was a single mother and on disability. Her friend, a middle aged Spanish woman agreed: “I can’t afford something like this, no way.”
The instructor came back in with an older man in tow. They both sat down in this tiny circle we’d formed. The man had a clipboard with blank membership waivers.
“I think,” the woman next to me said, “that we all want to think about it before we sign up.”
“Oh,” the instructor said. “So you’re already a We?”
So yeah. Warning bells were ding-alinging inside my head big time. Time for Jessie to Exit Stage Left.
“How about you give me a brochure or something and I’ll think about it,” I said as I stood up and started backing up toward the door. "My husband would kill me if I spent money like that without talking to him first.” (And see that’s something they don’t tell you about marriage—the Excuse Factor. Don’t want to go out for a drink with that annoying girl from work and her schlep of a boyfriend.? Gotta check with the Husband. I think we already have plans with his step-Aunt’s niece that night. Sorry!)
As the door was closing behind me, I heard the instructor say: “Don’t think too long. Then all that tight energy will build up again and you won’t be relaxed and open.”
Hmm.
So I went to this free yoga class on Saturday afternoon at Dahn yoga.
I’d passed the place before, but had never seen anyone else in there. Plus, I'm into vinyasa and their classes seem pretty basic and more hatha-based then I'm used to. Then, well. You know about the loss of my two karma yoga classes a week. So this time when I saw the notice about the free class, I thought I’d try it.
When I came in they had me fill out a basic form—name; address; etc. Then the woman—dressed in loose clothes—led me into the back room where three other women were lying on their backs with their eyes closed. It felt like the back room of a store in a suburban strip mall. Really. No windows. Bright florescent lights. There were white boards on one wall. And on the other computer printouts with basic yoga poses—cat stretch; standing forward bend--were scotch-taped to the paint. In the front were what looked like regular household blinds except a mountain formation—something that looked like this—was printed on it. Soft ambient music played softly in the background.
It felt soothing. Or at least an accurate facsimile of serenity.
We did a series of really basic poses—the most strenuous thing was the seated front stretch. Still, one of the women in the front row kept saying she was lightheaded. (Granted, she was pretty obese, so chances are the exercises probably were quite a challenge for her.)
Throughout the instructor kept saying a lot of stuff about energy—energy blocked; energy released—but not in any really coherent way. (Her accent, unfortunately, was so bad that I lost about every third word so that might have added to my perception of her as rambling and unfocused.) Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to be dismissive or anything. I’ve encountered people really into the charkas before and think there’s probably some kind of basis to it. Acupuncture, for example, which targets energy channels in the body, has really helped my mother--who can't take pain relievers for a variety of reasons--deal with her chronic back pain from degenerative disc disorder. Plus. There are people and places that just ooze negative or positive energy. Just hang out with a really bitter ex-wife for an evening and you’ll see what I mean. But. Well. There was this exchange: while we were shaking our arms, trying to loosen our wrists, I shivered. She said, “You’re cold.” “Yup,” I concurred. “That’s the energy leaving your body,” she said. “Or maybe you’ve just got the air conditioning on too high,” I said.
Afterwards we all sat in a circle. A middle-aged woman in a white karate outfit came in carrying a tray with 5 teacups. We drank tea together, bowing to each other and the instructor. It was quite nice. A beautiful little ritual. And then. It was like we’d been circled and the Big Sales Pitch began. “Which package are you going to buy?” She asked each of us in turn. The 3-month package for $450 or the one-year $2500? Trying to reel us in and all. The four of us looked at each other and then at the instructor, all blank-faced. Was she really trying to coerce us into a sale? (Sure. I should have known. The old TimeShare bait and pitch.) She got up and left the room for a few minutes. One of the other women—the obese one—said she loved the class and wished she could do this every week but she was a single mother and on disability. Her friend, a middle aged Spanish woman agreed: “I can’t afford something like this, no way.”
The instructor came back in with an older man in tow. They both sat down in this tiny circle we’d formed. The man had a clipboard with blank membership waivers.
“I think,” the woman next to me said, “that we all want to think about it before we sign up.”
“Oh,” the instructor said. “So you’re already a We?”
So yeah. Warning bells were ding-alinging inside my head big time. Time for Jessie to Exit Stage Left.
“How about you give me a brochure or something and I’ll think about it,” I said as I stood up and started backing up toward the door. "My husband would kill me if I spent money like that without talking to him first.” (And see that’s something they don’t tell you about marriage—the Excuse Factor. Don’t want to go out for a drink with that annoying girl from work and her schlep of a boyfriend.? Gotta check with the Husband. I think we already have plans with his step-Aunt’s niece that night. Sorry!)
As the door was closing behind me, I heard the instructor say: “Don’t think too long. Then all that tight energy will build up again and you won’t be relaxed and open.”
Hmm.
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posted by Minerva Jane at
11:09 AM
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