Q: How many Vietnam vets does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: You don't know, man! You weren't there! You'll never know!
For "Vietnam vet," read "Bikram Teacher Trainee." There really is no way of accurately or succinctly describing this experience. I can't predict anything here, or accuse anyone of being a yoga stereotype. I have also never been so cascaded with humanity, with sheer pleasure in the company of others. My infrequent "argh" moments are overwhelmed by moments of silent bliss. I still know why I'm here. I still know I'm not perfect, and in fact, do not ever wish to be other than I am. Jane flawed. Full of love, but flawed.
I have been informed that I've hurt a couple of people's feelings this past week. Well, it was a dungeon-dank week, full of bizarreness. I'm not close to these people, but I regret hurting their feelings anyway. It wasn't done with malice aforethought. But it's done. From their perspective I must seem like a total asshole, but . . . they're not here, and they can't really know what happens to one's brain in these circumstances. For what it's worth, though, I offer my apologies.
Back to basics for me: concentrate on that there yoga! Lock that frickin' knee. We are not at home to Mr. Despondency. Watch out, here comes Head to Knee with Stretching. So I can't tell my left from my right! Just bend the other leg, dammit.