Purple Rain

The yoga instructor said we should all feel nauseous at least once a day. I have already forgiven her for misusing nauseous (so oft-repeated that misuse) when we all know she meant to say nauseated. Semantics aside, let us consider the sentiments. Should we all be forced to the edges of intestinal chaos at least once a day? Really? What function would it serve if we all were moved by something so ghastly or repugnant that we could barely stomach it? I suppose I can understand that when we're close to puking, maybe we're close to living as we should, lacking safety, comfort, calculation. I guess I just don't really like to almost ralph all that much, all that often.

After the yogi misused the word nauseous, we shifted to all floor stretches, which do not normally make me nauseated. As we were hunched over in pigeon pose, the yogi switched the music from slow and mellow to…the artist formerly known (and, as far as I know) currently known as Prince. Do not get me wrong, I do enjoy the Prince. I am a fan of the raspberry beret, and I am glad I do not have to be rich to be your girl, and I do not dislike when doves cry. But I thought we were doing yoga? And suddenly Prince is making the room get all swoony over Purple Rain, Pu-u-urple Rain. Then! Lululemon next to me starts singing along. Then! Yoga instructor says, "I know you guys all want to sing along!" Whaaaa! BARRRF. I know this sounds so cranky, and who feels anything but blissed out during yoga, but I really resent this new movement to incorporate semi-poppy music into the fabric of the exercise. One recent class I attended, yogi dude was rocking Steve Miller Band. I really thought we were going for centering? Not midnight toking?

Anyway. I suppose yoga is a lot like golf or pizza. Even when it's bad, it was still a good idea.