Sunday is usually a Yoga day for me, but two yoga instructors alternate for the Sunday class. I only like instructor H, not L. After only 5 1/2 hours of sleep, as I read till 3 am again, I called the yoga studio this morning in bed and asked, “Who is teaching today?” After getting assurance that it would be H, I dragged myself out of bed and showed up at the class, only to find L there.
The reason I did not like L was that she was nagging too much. If I needed someone to push me, I would get a personal trainer or sign up for a Pilates class. Yoga should be calm and serene. Therefore, I had been deliberately avoiding instructor L.
But I had already stepped into the studio, and it would be too obvious and embarrassing to leave, so I stayed for the class.
Today L had a series of poses for us, targeting shoulder muscles. One particular pose was Dhanurasana (Bow Pose). L came over behind me and lifted my shoulders, and my body was off the ground a lot and formed a “full bow”. “Look at how high you are getting! Hold there!!!” L enthused at me while releasing her hands. My body sank back towards the floor as soon as she let go.
A few minutes later, L said: “Let me tell you a funny story when you all rest a bit. As you get older, you don’t listen to instructions well. As you get further away from adolescence, where you still get instructions and follow instructions all the time, you start to forget how to listen to instructions.” So far it was not funny, and none of us laughed. L then walked to a young woman, and did the same thing to her like what she had done to me a few minutes earlier. Then she said, “Hold!” Amazingly, that young woman was able to hold the high / full bow position. The whole class laughed and probably thought it was funny, even though I doubt any of them had seen my failed attempt earlier and made the comparison.
S?x%! L was calling me “old” and “not able to listen”.
L and I tried the same thing for the second time. My body still fell down like a rock after L released her hands, despite my mental effort of trying to listen to her instruction.
Therefore, when she asked the class to do a chair shoulder stand later on, I didn’t even bother asking permission to skip it. Instead, I happily put my legs up the wall and opened and closed at the same rhythm as the others. If you were to look at the students in the class one by one, you would see tall, tall, tall, tall, short, tall, tall, but moving in synchronization. Quite funny, actually.
L asked: “Are you not doing the chair shoulder stand?”
“No.” I happily replied.
Indeed, L was not that bad of an instructor. Maybe I would not avoid her from now on.