Review: Mary Jarvis Bikram posture clinic

There are no words.
Where is the space between heartbeats?  How much does breath weigh?  What color is transformation? 
There is no way to describe it.  Miracle of all miracles, I am at a loss for words.  But here are some little treasures I learned from the Mary Jarvis' Posture Clinic at Bikram Yoga Annapolis this weekend.
Quick set-up:  There were 75 people drenched in sweat in the room.  There were about 8 inches between mats lined up like sticks of gum.  I barely knew anyone's last name.  No room for claustrophia or personal space issues and it was glorious.
Do not leave the room.  There is alot of love (prana, chi, life force) in the 107 degree room.  Even if you don't do the asanas (postures), don't leave.  We aren't trying to be mean.  The heat is brilliant.
Do not drink the water.  Water is completely unecessary and distracting.  You drink water during Bikram because, you are bored, someone else is or YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO BREATHE.  Your breath is the best super-food out there.
I won't go into too much detail about the specific asanas because I could lose you unless you are already into this but I am convinced that We are brilliant.  We have everything we need to have a healthy life.  We could do or not do a million things to become healthier, happier beings and the place to start - and ultimately ends - is the breath.
Thinking about going to Bikram sometime?  You should know the room stinks.  It's not pungy, gross, or vomit-inducing just strong.  Shower before you go, bring clean towels and you'll be fine.  Mary said "it stinks like a cat box because we leave all our shit in the room."  Here are what some people say about The Yoga:
"I am a better mother."
"My marriage has improved."
"All my relationships have gotten better."
"I found my abs again."
"I am so much more calm."
"My back has never felt better."
If you do This Yoga for the rest of your life, the shape your body is in today is the worst it will ever be.
I'm just sayin'.
 I guess I found some words after all.  Out.

  

There's something about Mary...

I'm spending the weekend with her...

I hope I look like this when she's finished with me.  The pull to all things Bikram draws me to Annapolis, MD for a posture workshop with Mary Jarvis.  I got a pass from my family (Thank you, Norman's!) to head North on 95 to get twisted, torqued, and go deep.  I can't wait. I bought new Yoga clothes today and need to know:

Do I wear blue?

Or purple?

Tags still on.  I'm not Minnie Pearl but my grandmother's name was Pearl.  No lie.

I don't even remember the movie, There's Something About Mary. I just know I don't let my children watch it.  I think there's a bathroom incident that involves self-gratification.  No thank you.  I am happy to  please Mary Jarvis, however and hope I do.  Assuming I make it out alive and I'm not in traction, I'll let you know how it goes.  I present to you, my photographer: 

There's something about Jane.  Don't you think?  What are you doing this weekend? 

 

Dear Diary

Caution:  Introspection coming
This post will have no curse words references to body parts or naughty overtones.

Dear Diary,
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you are in a crowd in the middle of the day and suddenly realize you are in your pajams?  I love my pj's and I am proud of them - it's my favorite outfit, but I am not used to leaving my crib in them.  Today this little reverie became a reality.  I was first mortified to be out and about in practically my skivves.  Then I was elated, motivated and salvated.
Here's how it went down, dearest treasure chest of my secrets, I entered this contest to win running gear.  Feeling especially sassy I dressed in camo and submitted my photo along with a little ditty referring to a forgettable movie.  It contained four-letter words and references to the 'wild thing' in the woods.  I giggled everytime I read my own works thinking I'd be the hit of the party.  Kind of like when I assumed I'd be elected sophomore class president.  It's not the losing.  It's the exposure in the process that threw me off and perhaps a few others.  It was a little bold for me.  The references and writing a little edgy.  The tone would not have elected me May Queen but it was neither profane or profound.  When I learned it was off-putting to someone close to me I paniced and withdrew and I realized that no matter now old I get (almost 42) I will always be the little girl who is feels safest when everyone around me thinks I am wonderful, talented, kind, compassionate and way, way fun to be around (and maybe a little pretty too).  Never rude or undignified.  With this I began to ponder: Who am I living for?  Who am I writing for?  What matters most is my opinion of me.  All the real writers I have studied have a real Aha! moment when they submit to the craft and not to it's reaction.
So, I close today - Dear Diary - with the notion of submitting to what is real and inside you rather than how others see it.  It's hard and very brave put yourself out there for other's to see and judge but everyday as long as I breathe I will do it in some capacity.  It keeps me raw and real and honest.  No matter what happens I'm coming back.  A better, sharper, more solid me.  And because I am wired as such, I will always care what you think.  But to borrow a sanskrit term, santosha or contentment and peace will rest inside me instead of second guesses.  Even if you don't like me, it's all good.  Gotta get my pj's on.  
                                                                                           Love,
                                                                                           me
My mileage is up to 25 this week.  I've rocked my Bikram class twice and it's not over yet.   Is santosha in your life?

WTF? Click, you won't regret it...

Am I Nell?

Did ANYONE besides me see the Harrison Ford/Jodie Foster movie, "Nell"?  Quick set-up:  Nell (Jodie) is some wild thing that got left in the woods to fend for herself in a scary deliverance- looking cabin.  She is a survivor -(I like to think of myself as such) and grunts her way through life in complete solitude.  In comes HF and tries to mainstream her.  She learns to talk, finds her errogenous zones and I don't remember the rest except some hotel and escape.  Sound familiar?  Anyway,  I ENTERED A CONTEST and I WANT YOU TO VOTE FOR ME.   WTF?  You muse.

So we were asked by Beth to submit a photo in our craziest running gear and explain (beg) why we need new digs and the coolest looking hydrator you ever did see.  So here's my submission...

I need running clothes and gear so badly. I have been hiding in the woods my whole life. I am Nell. Harrison Ford tried to 'mainstream' me, enter me into regular society. After I learned to speak and not grunt the old craggy shit (sorry, Calista) holed me up in a no-tell motel. I was sure he wanted to get in my pants (again, sorry Calista). Knowing I like to dash through the woods he bought me running shoes and I gave up barefoot trailrunning. Here's me learning how to use my shoes.


The reason I need the gear is I'm tired of drinking out of shit-infested streams along the trails of my 20-mile daily workouts. I end up farting like a loon. A little purified creekwater would be nice.

For the record I'd rather wear camo to run but a little color would look nice on me. If I encounter Behr Gryls sometime out in my elements trying to survive I would like to get in his pants. I look great in blue and my arms are so buff the tank Beth is giving away is the perfect cut for my physique. Harrison, get a face lift and we'll talk. Thanks for teaching me how.

Starting April 13, Beth will post the finalists on her site and ask for votes.  I am so conceited, I am assuming that I am a finalist.  Actually, I'm taking a risk and assuming the best.  Something I am really trying to get better at.  HELP ME.  After all - I put this shit on and went outside for my 6-year-old to take the the photo, my other daughter shook her head, and my son had a friend over spending the night.  No wonder they don't want me to leave the house.  Maybe I AM NELL.

What would you do for something free?