I Fail To See Your Logic

There are some things in life that are more difficult for some people than others. For instance, focusing. And breathing. And being quiet for an hour and a half.

Enter Bikram Yoga. I look forward to my (completely inflexible/slightly neurotic version of a) bikram practice as a daily oasis. No matter what is going on in my day, I know that all I have to do is stay in a sweaty room and slowly make my way through 26 poses to achieve that sense of calm that oozes from the instructor's unnatural "I'm trying to hypnotize you" voice.

Of course, mine only lasts until I get back on the freeway and someone is driving SO SLOW IN THE LEFT LANE WHY ARE YOU DRIVING SO SLOW WHEN THERE ARE THREE OTHER LANES FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU?!?!? But that's not really important.

What is really important is that there are rules to be followed in the yoga studio. Rules such as: stay in the room, don't talk to anyone around you, honor the rules of the building by putting on a shirt before you leave.

I get incredibly irritated by people who can't seem to understand these rules. Well, minus the last one. I don't really understand that one, either. But, I am very conscientious to abide by these rules. Mostly because I like to avoid uncomfortable conversations filled with soft nods and understanding gazes.

There is apparently another rule.

No cell phones allowed in the studio.

Right. So, I always bring my blackberry into the studio with me. On silent. Turned over so no one will be annoyed by the red flashing light. It could not be a more innocuous presence in the room.

Sooo last Wednesday. 7am class. I am already kind of stressed out about something. I don't remember what it was, but I'm sure it was really important. Point is, I REALLY needed to lie in savasana and take some deep breaths.

By the time we get to camel pose, I am in a fantastic mood. If I blacked out for a second, I would see birds singing outside my window. Just a few more poses to go before I can spread this newfound cheer to the rest of the world.

Suddenly, the instructor appears at the base of my mat. I expected to hear her telling me I was neglecting to pull up on my heels or push my hips forward, but no. No. She says. Out loud. "Oh, I didn't even notice this cell phone." Passive-aggressiveness is annoying. Passive-aggressiveness in 'yoga voice' is absolutely maddening. I tried to ignore her, but my focus was already broken. Let's be honest, that doesn't really take much.

As we ready ourselves for the next position, she kneels next to my mat and says, "Stacie, is that your cellphone?" I give up on my 'pulling - that is the key to stretching' and nod. "We don't allow cell phones in the studio."

Great. This seems like the appropriate time for this conversation. When we are almost done with class and everyone is trying to focus and zen out.

She continues on to say that the policy is that we leave everything in the dressing room and "honor our fellow yogis by trusting our belongings in a community setting."

There are so many things that were going through my head:

A. Not one single person would have had their class disturbed if you had not decided to call out my blackberry attachment in the middle of class. And I'm pretty sure the point of not allowing cell phones is to make sure that people do not have their class disturbed. So I fail to see the logic in your actions.

B. Honor our fellow yogis by trusting our belongings in a community setting?? REALLY? Because I've had four blackberries stolen in the last year. I would like to take my honor back along with those blackberries, thanks. (Also,after last night's 90210, there is no way I'm trusting my belongings around those people.)

C. I hate everyone.

The next day, I hid my blackberry under my t-shirt. Passive-aggressive that.