my cousin jojo once asked me if i would ever go skydiving.
i don’t remember my exact words, but the gist of the response was NOOOO WAAAY.
he seemed genuinely surprised by this, and perhaps disappointed, as he seemed sure i was the kind of person that would…at least try it.
my fear of flying (now controlled) and fear of heights (unlikely to be conquered) sort of make the whole skydiving bit unlikely. but the conversation stuck with me. i wondered, do i readily embrace new/interesting/daring/daunting opportunities? or do i say, mmmthanks, but no...
the actual answer (a little of both) is not that important or thrilling.
the point is, i challenged myself from that point on to be more of a YES girl.
in that spirit, when my friend nicole invited me to attend a “flying yoga” workshop, I agreed.
but from the moment I said SURE! and she started calling for reservations, i started having some of my own…a list of potential excuses started scrolling through my mind…i wouldn’t have backed out on her, really, but I’d been to some not so great yoga workshops in the past, so I wondered....
what is flying yoga?!
what would the studio be like? (dirty? dumpy? dusty? hot? overheated? damp? musty? stinky? cramped? empty?)
what would the people be like? (dirty? dumpy? dusty? hot? overheated? damp? musty? stinky? cramped? empty?)and
would my occasionally lame back and i be able to make it to work the next day?
well…
the studio had clean, beautifully finished, dark wood floors and huge, shaded windows that filtered just enough sun to lend a happy sunday afternoon vibe. (whew!)
but it was eerily quiet.
a 30-second survey of the crowd, and it was apparent: of the 11 other people (5 couples and 1 adventurous soul who signed up solo), nicole and i were the only yoga partners that were not “a couple.”
i recognized one of the instructors--she used to teach the monday night yoga classes at our office. she’s petite and pale, with a mass of wavy brown hair that outweighs her frame. nice as she’s been when i’ve taken her classes before, she did not acknowledge or smile readily enough that afternoon to set me at ease. i started to worry.
her partner was a 6-foot tall, rangy fellow, who must have weighed all of 130 pounds. he was wearing a typical yogi uniform: a loose-fitting white tank, and baggy black drawstring pants. he sat with a very straight back, but had naturally concave shoulders, which made him look even slighter. he had huge, deep set and droopy brown eyes, and a long thin face. his shaved head accentuated the surprising, anvil shape of his skull. he looked altogether forlorn and in need of a hug.
and hug we did.
there was lots of group touching. it went something like this:
let’s sit in a circle, with our knees touching…close your eyes...ooooohm...
let's stand in a circle...hold hands..close your eyes...ooooohm...
let’s stand in a circle, with our shoulders touching...turn to your left, lock arms with the person in front of you, bend your knees so you’re sitting on the lap of the person in front of you…close your eyes…
let’s stand in a circle, wrap your arms around the waist of the person next to you, lean back as far as you can…close your eyes…
let’s stand in a circle, with our shoulders touching, turn to your left, massage the person in front of you, while you’re sitting on their lap….close your eyes…
(i very much like touching people that I know. i do not much like touching strangers. i started to get creeped out.)
then we broke out into pairs and stretched more.
and then, finally, our instructors began demonstrating some of the “moves” that we would attempt. this was the "flying" part we'd all been waiting for.
there was a lot of “interesting” positioning, and judging by the excited, longing exchanges between the other pairs, I half-wondered if this “flying yoga” or “acroyoga” workshop wasn’t code for “sex camp.” i am guessing that this session offered some new kind of foreplay for them. provided they didn’t hurt themselves.
i decided from that point, to not look at anyone else, lest i bear witness to some intimacy that i shouldn’t…i had enough to focus on for the next two hours: trying to not drop (or be dropped by) nicole.
and that was when things started to get fun!
we tried almost all the poses they demonstrated, taking turns being “the base” or “the flyer.” it was certainly challenging, as “the base,” to balance someone by positioning your feet on the small of their back, or on their hip bones, but it was also surprisingly difficult to be “the flyer,” as you have to focus on distributing your weight—engaging your core, but simultaneously relaxing your arms and/or legs. it takes a lot of repetition, and tweaking, to figure out what feels “right.”
i definitely enjoyed the physical challenge of it, and while the poses themselves didn’t feel particularly relaxing (perhaps with time?), i did enough laughing to feel exhilarated and energized—and surprise, surprise—excited about the prospect of doing it again…
i recommend going with someone you won’t mind touching and being occasionally off-balance with. and someone who enjoys falling down, laughing.
photographic evidence from last weekend:
nicole as the flyer, me as the base...
me as the flyer, nicole as the base...
