Through 55 minutes of Vinyasa 2, there’d been no slips, zero human tears, and just one half of a calf cramp. As the lights dimmed, and we sat down on our mats, I knew it was time to celebrate this job well done, stretching out into absolute prone bliss. For me, savasana is the ultimate end-of-class treat, reconnecting body and breath, and a chance to give myself that proverbial pat on the back after some legitimate physical exertion. Yeah, too bad I’m not wired that way. Within moments of closing my eyes, the brain lifts the floodgates. Centered as I might be, my mind is now on a different kind of journey, and I just can’t stop it. Sure, I’m relaxing, but here’s what I’m actually thinking during savasana.
caras com piercing no nariz
1. Alguém gosta de Enya?
A música é recusada, substituída por um silêncio calmante e um desejo imediato de julgar a escolha de músicas do instrutor na última hora. Embora os sons de batidas indígenas de todo o mundo tenham ajudado a canalizar a energia em algumas das poses mais engajadas, não posso deixar de me perguntar como Enya e seus coconspiradores ambientais caprichosos se depararam com cada lista de reprodução de ioga já produzida. Não finja que você não percebeu.
2. De onde vêm as citações de iogues?
Every instructor has them, but where are they born? While we’re trying to quiet our minds, teacher is over here kicking some serious existentialism, and I just have to know: Is there a database of post-class knowledge available freely on the internet? Maybe it’s a group chat? WHERE IS THE GROUPCHAT?!
3. Deixei o forno? E outros pontos de pânico
You’ve asked me to concentrate on breath and body for the last hour, but now the real world is coming back to knock on my brain door. Did I lock my keys in the car? Is rent due today? Did I wash this shirt? These bursts are small, but acute, things I may or may not have done before class and a reminder that I will eventually have to get up from this thin piece of perforated foam.
4. Vou chegar ao frasco de spray primeiro?
Even the best savasana comes to an end, but there’s still one more physical quest before class draws to a true close. These mats aren’t going to clean themselves, and I know as soon as the instructor whispers, namaste, the rush to claim that disinfectant spray is on. Should I cheat and get up early? I’d hate to pull a muscle stirring too fast, but waiting while 15 other people circulate the spray bottle? Oof, maybe a strained quad is worth it.
5. Eu adormeci?
Não ria, você esteve lá. Savasana está indo bem, muito bem. Eu perdi completamente a noção do tempo e do espaço, as citações de iogues se multiplicaram e soam como se estivessem vindo de um cantor de lounge sensual e ... acabei de acenar na terra dos sonhos? Estou meio esperando abrir os olhos para uma sala escura e vazia com os alunos e as horas de professores desaparecidas e a porta trancada atrás deles. Um ronco alto interrompe minha espiral - não a minha, mas a mulher ao meu lado. Ufa. Boa tentativa, Savasana.
estilo dos anos 90
