Since arriving in Chile, I’ve been on a hunt for the perfect yoga studio and the perfect class. In yogaspeak, I’m looking for a power yoga or ashtanga vinyasa class because I like the flow and athletic challenge. If my writing style is any indication, I can’t meditate for sh*t because my mind is too dang active. It never quiets down. Ever. Seriously. Internally, I’m like that kid you meet and wonder if their parents spike their applesauce with speed: random, awkward, anxious, and, at times, innocently putting my fingers in electrical outlets. Hence, the Kundalini classes I tried weren’t what I was looking for.
In any case, I settled on a studio not far from my apartment that offers Iyengar and an, er, interesting walk home. And I liked it. I really liked it. In February. With the substitute teacher. She was so friendly and encouraging. But everyone kept murmuring “Just wait until the maestra returns from vacation…” It was obvious this maestra was quite revered.
After the first class I understood why. I became convinced that in a previous life she was either a:
or a malleable glob of this:
The implication (if you are having a hard time following my clip art) is that she is the most limber instructor I’ve ever had.Hands down. Like if you imagine your favorite yoga instructor had a baby with a circus freak, and that baby turned out to have a genetic mutation that allowed them to bend waaaay beyond what is earthly possible – like a human spiral – then you might be imagining this instructor. She’s crazy talented in a way that implies that it’s not even talent – it’s effortless. More power to her, right? Or something like that. I’ll admit, I’m envious. I mean, how cool would it be to be all “Yeh, I see that teacup on the HIGHEST shelf, let me grab it with my foot!” Pretty freaking awesome, huh?
And she’s nice, too. To her favorites. You know, the people who have been going to the studio for five years and could almost teach it. And I’m new, something she makes plainly visible every time she corrects my poses or makes me use a prop, so that in the end (pardon the yoga jargon again) I feel like I’m doing a restorative class which is not what I’m paying for.
And you should hear her praise her favorites! Oh she goes on and on about their precision and alignment and how beautiful and wonderful it is. “Sara, please try to be more like Maria. Can you tighten your pelvis like she is and lock out your knees?” In the meantime, Maria’s foot has found its way off her mat and is so precise and aligned that it’s dangling only an inch above my nose.
Yes, it may be time to go studio hunting again. If you know of a good one, let me know.