The social media induced breakdown that started it all
Written June 8, 2015
I started doing yoga twelve years ago. After a few years I entered what I call my drink-the-kool-aid-phase. I was all in and this sh*t was gonna solve all my problems. Part of what seduced me was the belief that being a yogi was going to inevitably make me look and feel a certain way- a spiritually advanced, hotter, bendier, zenned out, less crazy version of the current me. Over the years this hopeful belief became a source of guilt and anxiety. An idea of perfection I couldn't possibly live up to. A true yogi always feels peaceful while sitting in lotus position, right? A true yogi can actually do lotus position, right?
I tell people all the time in class that it's the intention that counts, that the way the pose looks doesn't matter. I still have trouble extending myself the same compassion. I didn't realize the extent of this until I joined Instagram a couple weeks ago and was faced with the dreaded yoga selfie. Oh, hello neurosis, nice to see you again.
To tell people it's impossible be bad at yoga and then only post pictures of myself in poses I think I'm good at seems hypocritical. It feeds a stereotype of ability and lifestyle that doesn't serve me or anyone else. A stereotype that apparently part of me still buys into.
So, starting this week I'm posting the bad poses, the ugly poses, the fall on my ass poses, the poses I modify the hell outta as a rule rather than an exception, the poses I need to do, and the poses I never do at all anymore and why. It's gonna be fun.
We'll begin with this. A simple hamstring stretch performed while licking chocolate vega smoothie out of my teeth.