Fun

People get their jollies in all sorts of ways: model rocketry, kinky sex, even collecting Hummel figurines; it occurred to me this morning, as I bent and sweated for an hour and a half with about six dozen other people, that this was my idea of fun, strange as that may seem; I really do enjoy the Ashtanga practice, and while it’s not always exactly what I would call pleasurable, it is really, when all is said and done (and often, most obviously when the practice itself is finished) quite a good time to be had by most, if not all.

And I think this is sort of useful to keep in mind because it’s easy enough to conceive of the hard work of yoga practice simply as hard work and forget what an incredible privilege and joy it is to subject oneself to the discipline.

You know how they say of something: “It’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on?” For me, Ashtanga could be described that way; I know of no other place in life where I get to be shirtless and dripping sweat all over the place (at least in public) and no other activity I get to engage in that is more engaging of body and mind.

Of course, none of this is to deny that the practice can be difficult, humbling, frustrating, and completely absurd; but that’s life, as well. And one of the things that makes the practice so amusing is how it mirrors, in a microcosmic way, that macrocosm of existence; if that’s not fun, I don’t know what is.

My longtime Ashtanga teacher, David Garrigues, once described what we do in our yoga practice as a kind of shamanic journey; I agree, but it’s also sort of a crazy amusement park thrill-ride, like the Tilt-A-Whirl; it’s that kind of fun, too, and best of all, unlike those carnival experiences, you only sometimes feel like hurling afterwards.