Advanced Yoga: An Exercise in Humilation

Have you ever experienced the sheer panic and humiliation of being in a class that's too hard for you? I keep thinking about myself in Algebra II when I needed to be in Integrated Algebra I, or sitting in German for Conversation (don't ask) when I couldn't even understand what the professor was saying in English.

I had that feeling recently at yoga. I rocked up to this all-levels class thinking it's going to be - call me crazy - appropriate for all levels. It wasn't. I've been to more yoga classes than I can count between New York and London, and I've never come across an instructor as willfully out of touch with his students - and, quite frankly, cruel - as this little dude.

He starts the class with a billion sun salutations, which were sped up to a near-comical level. Save for two other people, the entire class is able to keep up with his pace. I'm rushing up and down so quickly, I feel like I'm simply doing belly flops against the smelly mat. I think I heard him say something to me about "grace," but I couldn't hear him above the crashing and panting.

I knew this place wasn't my scene when we were practicing headstands before the 10-minute mark. I stayed in downward dog, figuring I'd be safer letting all of the blood rush to my head than crack my skull open in attempt to keep up with the others.

15 minutes into the class, I mentally checked out when the little yogi demanded,"Bring your anus to your belly button."

So I suffered on, embarrassing myself as I tried to hold positions I hadn't learned in my entire "practice" if you can call it that. I tried to channel a yogic Madonna, as famously shot by Steven Klein, but the resemblance just wasn't there. As I faltered, I received little attention from this man except in the form of disapproving glares. He doted on my more advanced classmates.

He only offered a hand toward the end of the class, when we were practicing handstands. As I tried in vain to do a back bend, he came over to me, and looking bored, abruptly grabbed my ankles and lifted them (sans permission) up to the ceiling. I was completely freaked, both because I felt unstable and because my shirt slid down to my shoulders, leaving entire torso and sports bra in plain view.

"Pull in your belly!" he hissed.

"I can't!"I snapped back. You can only pull in pudge so much, you know.

He plopped me down without warning.

Flustered, I stayed til the last 'shanti shanti.' I left feeling angry and spiritually un-renewed.