Welcome. Namaste. Or should I say, pawmaste? No, I shouldn’t. Because that’s stupid. And I’ve already established I’m not some idiotic pandering mammal like a lemming. Or a dog.
Anyhow, please center yourself on your mat and we’ll begin with our breath. Take a deep inhale and imagine you’re drawing in something you want, such as world peace, deep serenity, or tuna. On the exhale, let go of what you no longer need. Might I suggest that ridiculous blue sweater you wore yesterday? I think it’s time. Continue with this deep breathing until you feel calm, relaxed, and willing to have your belly rubbed. But only briefly. Because anything more than a couple of seconds warrants a ruthless blood-drawing attack.
Now on the next inhale, stretch your arms up toward the ceiling. Stretch your fingers wide, right down to the dew claw. Keep your arms lifted and come to standing from this seated position. Don’t ask me how. Figure it out. Move to the nearest door jamb and/or long panel curtain and on the exhale, bring your arms down, slowly and methodically dragging your nails along the wood or fabric. Repeat this as many times as needed to ensure irreparable damage. Don’t forget to focus on your breath. Obviously.
Return to the mat and come into a downward-facing dog. Downward-facing, you see, because all dogs are hell-bound. And the ancient yogis knew this. So don’t question it. From this position, take a deep inhale and extend your right leg high into the air. On the exhale, move your head toward your genitals and give them a lick. This is simply good hygiene. Repeat on the other side. If you’re unable to achieve the tongue to genital bind, you can use a strap or that string of rainbow-colored felt balls I recently tore down from above the crying baby’s crib. I’m willing to share because I’m a giver.
From your hell-bound dog position, you can hop, step, or jump three feet straight up into the air to the top of your mat. You’ll be in a standing forward fold. Roll up from here and come to standing on two feet – painfully inefficient as this is. It’s no wonder so many of you humans have body issues. Intelligent design, my ass. Fortunately, you’ve come to yoga and I am here to fix you. Because, once again, I’m a giver. Now, let’s work on some balance. Tree pose.
Standing on your right foot, bring your left foot to the inseam of your right leg and open your left knee out to the side. Float your arms up once again, admiring your previous path of destruction, and take some deep breaths. There really is no goal here. The challenge is to stay here long enough to feel that deep connection with the earth and for me to cover you with carpet and wrap twine around your standing leg so I may sharpen my claws. Don’t worry if it doesn’t happen on the first side. There’s always another leg. Sadly, I remind you once again that you only have two.
We will make our way out of tree pose and slowly roll back down into a forward fold while observing the floating reflected light forms running up and down the walls from the prism hanging in the window that I haven’t managed to pull down and break yet. I do have a plan though. Now, move every ounce of your attention to the floating light forms and try to catch them. Go ahead. I dare you. See how much you like it. They’re real fuckers.
On the topic of fuckers, we’re going to go into pigeon pose. Step back from your standing forward fold and come down to table pose. Lift your right leg, but avoid the temptation to scratch the back of your ear with your toenails. Instead, stretch it back and move it about as though you’re either painting a beautiful rainbow behind you or scattering copious amounts of cat litter in the style of Jackson Pollock. Either way, you’re expressing yourself artistically – which is very different from expressing yourself glandularly. Anyhow, you’ll then slide your right knee forward to emulate a mangled pigeon whose innards were recently torn out, consumed, and then puked up onto one very lucky human’s bed. Embrace the simple-mindedness of the pigeon, yet don’t embrace it so much that you poop on the Buddha statue in the corner. I did that last week and it’s not a mistake I’ll be making again in this life. Fortunately, I have eight others.
Take a deep breath now to release from pigeon pose and transition onto your back. Ease back and relax as I offer various adjustments including a gentle tuck of your shoulders, ensuring your head is properly aligned, and ‘making biscuits’ on your chest while gnawing on your chin. We are preparing for our final pose, sivasana. This means corpse pose and it’s not meant to sound morose. Rather, it signifies the death of the physical practice as you prepare to move into your day. You may want to cover your eyes with a pillow though, as I’ve been told I’m a very literal sort. And if I see you as a corpse, I may just eat your eyes.
You’ve been warned.
Peace. Namaste.