Bikram Yoga and the Creative Process: The Wind Removing Pose

For you uninitiated,
BIKRAM

refers to a guy, Bikram Choudhury who some say is the greediest damn Buddhist on the planet.
He invented this very structured 26 postures to be practiced in a melt your face hot room program in specific order, with exact, repetitive verbal cues, patented it and proceeded to charge an embarrassingly large sum of money for people to purchase franchises and to simply endure the torture.

 I for one, heartily endorse this smells-like-the-inside-of-a-soccer-bag experience.  It's been called "Hot Box Yoga" "Sweaty yoga" "Yoga for Type-A's" among other things.  It is one of the FEW ways yours truly can totally and completely let go of my own inner head writing, sales worrying, promo-planning self and just, well, suffer.

The progress, to my mind, is similar to the creation of a  book.

You start (do the breathing and "warm up" postures). You are HIGH on life, on yourself, your abilities and your overall amazingness.  You could do this EVERY DAMN DAY, do you hear me? You are just these many words shy of a best seller, and a movie deal.
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You hit 1/3 through, have balanced on one leg through 3 postures and are about to become a triangle (the "pinnacle of the standing series").

You've written the end of your MS. You're reading through and handling your critique partners gentle yet firm commentary. You doubt yourself. You're on the verge of tears most of the time.  You suck, you're fat and you should just do everyone a favor and walk out/stop pretending you can write.

Floor series time: Whew what a relief. You get a brief respite. You're ACE at "dead body pose." You are relaxing, breathing, and "in the room" as the practice leader demands.  You can stretch your hips and flex your revision muscle beautifully.  This just might work.


By the time you've accomplished the "spine strengthening series" your entire psyche is one big wet noodle.  You're near tears again, pissed and frustrated and sick to death of yourself. If you have to read through that lame, asinine story one more time you will kill someone with your bare hands and a red editing pen. If you have to hear "Complete Relax" once more from the stupid twat at the front of the room you will go after her like a spider monkey.

Holy shit you want me to do WHAT? Bend back HOW FAR? on my fucking KNEES? are you CRAZY?  how many kids do you think this body has had? how many miles has it run, walked? There is NO WAY you are about to revise or add or completely rework that entire middle part of the story.  That is patently insane.


Ah....The final spinal...twisting one's spine "like a pearl necklace" where in you try to keep from sniggering like a 13 year old.  The home stretch, truly. There is not one square inch of your body NOT sweating. There is not one brain cell not completely saturated by the story that seemed destined for greatness.  Can you stand it? Will you finish?


The breathing, the final Savasana. and when the leader whispers "Namaste" at the end you clench your jaw and hold back the GO TO HELL that you really want to blurt into the stinky ass room.

But you breathe, you lay there, you let the slowly cooling air wind around and over you.

You polish, you submit and you start all over again.  The very next day.
You shower, you drink water, and you return. The very next day.
Because you must.
Two years ago I lost 45 pounds doing Bikram 4-5 times a week and eating very little in the way of refined sugar.  I have never felt more powerful, sexier or in control.


After spending the past year opening and running a successful craft beer business, I've fallen off both wagons, regained 25 of the pounds and feel, in a word, lame.


I've re-committed myself to the program, am on day 3 and just wanted to share some of the journey with you.
Namaste (or as I like to say: fuck you, thanks, and turn down the heat.)


Love
Liz