Bloated and Stiff: Yoga Poses for the Rest of Us

It’s been a while since I last yoga-ed in public. I usually clear the living room before I groan along to a do-it-yourself DVD. Since I prefer to suffer in solitude, I haven’t been in the presence of too many real live yoga types.

Maybe that’s why it struck me one warm summer morning while engaged in 90 minutes of Yoga in the Park – yoga aficionados are an awful lot alike. Mostly women, they’re very thin, tall, lithe, and humorless. For obvious reasons, I don’t relate.

It’s a Zoo Out There
As we made our way through the animal kingdom – from the ubiquitous downward dog, to the cat, camel, dolphin and finally the dead bug, I cleared my mind. Instead of thinking about peace and tranquility, though, I imagined yoga poses for the non-spiritual and rigid among us.

The Flaming A-Hole
This pose is dedicated to all of the sanctimonious dill-weeds out there with whom we’ve had romantic liaisons, the ones who’ve quietly “moved on” and “wish us well.” Harrumph and bad karma, is all I have to say.

The Shredded Groin
Look out aging hippy pony-tail man! The Shredded Groin will take you low the instant that sensuous, serious cutie instructor walks by.

The Lumpy Leotard
Ladies, three kids and 50 years are difficult to hide in a yoga-tard. This pose will have you fold your arms over and press hard into your well-earned belly.

The Crusty Toenail
Let’s all agree to either wear socks or clean up the feet. As you bend yourself downward, take out your organic, hemp-woven emery board and begin exfoliation.

The Offensive Gas
It’s happened to the most controlled sphincter – a gas leak. Prevention is the best medicine when this pose sneaks up on you. Avoid cabbage, beans and oily Thai food 24 hours before each session.

I wish you peace, enlightenment and a great bod.

Namaste!

Photo credit: my son, Will

Dear God--Won't You Facebook Friend Me?

Why so elusive, god? You don’t e-mail, call, text, tweet, Skype, or friend me on Facebook. You’re all knowing, yet your messages are shrouded in mystery. On the rare occasion you do reach out, your point is oblique: a burning bush, a flood, plagues? Huh?

I understand that was back in the day. But nowadays, it’s even worse. Every once in a while, the National Inquirer reports that your likeness has shown up on a potato chip or on a tree trunk. What am I supposed to do with that?

What with social media, you really have no excuses. Most of us post the daily details of our lives on Facebook and in our blogs (ahem). But not you. No messages, no favorites, no photos, no farmville. I guess you’re busy, but how about a clear warning of impending doom? A simply stated e-mail message on August 28, 2005, would have been helpful.

To: New Orleans
From: The Almighty
Get out now, and take as much stuff with you as you can. A huge hurricane is coming on August 29, and your house will be full of water soon.

As a church-going Lutheran kid, I’d often ask why god let kids starve and why I didn’t get an answer to prayers.

A patient pastor or weary parent explained that god works in “mysterious ways,” ways I couldn’t possibly understand. And if I didn’t get a verbal reply from god, the answer was No.

Really? Is that all you’ve got?

I’m going to friend you on Facebook. It’s the most popular social medium for older, ahem, entities.

If I don’t hear back, I guess your answer is No.