Who is Lulu and what does she do? Does she eat a lot of lemons?
I don’t actually really care all that much about who Lulu is and what she does or if she drinks lemonade, I just enjoyed the rhyme.
I do want to preface this blog post with the statement that I don’t not like lululemon as a company. I think lululemon excels in creating and holding a space for a community of yogis and active people. Their tights with pockets are rad and I love how easy it is to roll their yoga mats.
...I own lululemon tights because I taught some classes for them, and I roll up their yoga mats because they donated them to the charity I teach for. I only said that so you don’t get this idea that I’m rich enough to prioritise spending $150 on tights. With or without pockets.
And while I love their ethos and power to create such a strong community and deliver incredible opportunities/classes/events/workshops to people who pay little to no money I am not a lululemon person. This is mainly due to the size of my boobs and the lack of money on my debit card. The fact that there even is a lululemon person in our world angers me, frightens me, upsets me. Real life people in this real life world of ours have told me countless times that they couldn’t possibly give yoga a go because they’re not a lululemon person. Who is lulu and why does she have lots of lemons? Do the lemons do lemon yoga?
Now I don't know Lulu or Lemon personally, but I would hope that they wouldn't disagree with me when I so boldly say right now: You don't need lululemon tights to practise yoga.
One day last year I was approached to write a blog post for the lululemon website. I was excited, because although I don’t actively wear their clothing, I do support their mission to create a community.
But like I said, I am not a lululemon person. Boobs, too broke… and now also because of my voice.
This blog was never published, it wasn't lulu or lemony enough, so I thought I would share it here instead:
The things people think (but don’t say) at yoga
“I’m not flexible!” “What if I fart?” “Everyone will look better than me!”
These are all normal fears that you’ve expressed to your BFF before heading a long to a Saturday morning yoga class at your local studio. There’s no denying that starting a practice can be daunting or even intimidating. It only takes a quick Google to see you’re not alone with these thoughts.
But what about the things we don’t talk about once we begin? The things we think, but hardly ever say?
“There are tiny little people stabbing my legs with pins and needles and I think I’m going to cry.”
Your hips are sinking down towards your heels, your forehead is resting on the mat/block and your arms are by your side with the palms facing up. You are in absolute child’s pose bliss. Then all of a sudden a tingling sensation rises from your toes to your calves. It feels like tiny little people are jabbing you repetitively with pins and needles. Move aside peaceful sleeping child and hello tantrum at the supermarket. You’re wondering what you ever did to deserve this pain. You’re also wondering why your BFF who brought you along to this yin class didn’t mention anything about getting pins and needles. Maybe it’s just you?
It most certainly is not just you who gets pins and needles. I personally get them nearly every class.
Seriously, life is just way too short to put up with pins and needles! Please move. Restore the blood flow and get back into the pose when you’re ready and the little jab-y people have jogged on.
“My arms are too short, that must be it.”
Well would you look who it is? Old mate paschimottanasana (Or seated forward bend.) Lifting up out of your lumbar spine, extending and lengthening then folding down deeper. The man next to you can touch his toes and the lady to your left is kissing her feet. Were you born with a set of abnormally short arms? Or does everyone in this room have really short legs?
Everyone is on their own journey to their toes and it can’t be compared to yours. Just know that being able to touch your toes doesn’t say anything about you as a person.
Cancel that appointment for the Arm Extenders Clinic in Los Angeles and move into this pose with the breath. Lengthening with the inhales and folding with the exhales. You might even surprise yourself!
“The music is torture. I really want to sing along!”
You are trying out a 60 minute power vinyasa class at the new studio down the road from your flat. The teacher has obviously made a killer new playlist on Spotify with all of the recent bangers, including some acoustic covers of your favourite 90’s jams. The music is seeping in through your pores and getting right into your bones. You just can’t fight this feeling any more. You’ve forgotten what you started fighting for.
Chances are someone else in the class feels like you, and I would put money on the PV teacher feeling the same. She’s preoccupied cueing 3 chaturangas in to upward facing dog when really she just wants to belt out the chorus.
The solutch (solush?)
To avoid disrupting anyone else’s practice it’s best to keep your singing for the shower after class, but don’t fight the feeling! (Sorry I can’t help myself) Bring a smile to your face, feel the music inside your body and allow yourself to be happy and present. That is what yoga is about after all.
End of blog post.