on the dark side

organized religion is adorable.

it's so full of enlightening enlightenment that its subscribers don't know whether to joyfully celebrate or go on a five-state killing spree.

so, obviously, sometimes they do both. just to make sure their spiritual behinds are covered.

other times they merely meander about, spreading the gospel-as-they-see-it. the results are usually hilarious. or sad. or alarming.

the yoga thing, for example. denominations from baptist to muslim to oh-i-don't-know, seventh-day krishnas have condemned the practice as wicked. or heretical. or just too darn much fun and too good for you to be anything but evil.

as a sometimes-practioner of and benefitter from yoga, i can confirm that it is, indeed, mystical. magical. other-worldly. it has powers beyond the understanding of most humans, and several species of kelp. it can restoreth health and sootheth the soul in ways you didn't even know you needed. the best part is, it happens from the inside out, rather than the opposite, which confuses and frightens some people.

and that is why the perniciously pious would like to shoo people away from the practice--they don't understand it and cannot control it.

or, it could be because the typical yoga class is populated by scads of scandalously clad yogis, a transgression over which righteous folks tend to feign horror. and, to be honest, healthy, scandalously clad people practicing yoga are a distraction...unless you're doing it right. in which case, you know, om.

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it's interesting how many people, instead of celebrating life, prefer to celebrate death. then again, what do i know? maybe that's how they celebrate life...by re-enacting horrific-tragic-death-things. it helps them feel like they're more alive than dead people.

titanic cruise, anyone?

see, you go out in a big boat, recreating all the fun of the titanic's maiden voyage (okay, its only voyage, for those of you keeping score).

like this:

The organizers are trying to capture the onboard experience — minus the disaster — including the food and a live band playing music from that era, in a tribute to Titanic's musicians who reportedly played their instruments until the ship sank.

While on board, passengers also will dine on meals based around dishes served in April 1912, with a formal dinner on April 13 made up entirely of dishes served aboard the Titanic.

note the very careful "minus the disaster" clause. this is probably to avoid lawsuits from passengers who bought their ticket expecting a terrifying collision with an iceberg, followed by a fatal plunge to the bottom of the ocean. wouldn't want to mislead those folks.

also, note that the voyage is carefully orchestrated to mirror the rest of the titanic onboard experience. the costumes, the food, the band, the music...and yet, inexplicably, some people are questioning the, um, propriety of the venture.

which is crazy, obviously. even if tickets cost up to $9,500 and the whole thing sounds like a mel brooks movie.

"I don't think the cruise is morbid. It's like saying Gallipoli is morbid or commemorating the (Crimean) war," said Carmel Bradburn, 55, who is from Australia. "Remembering those who died is not morbid."

which is true. remembering them isn't morbid. at all. a creepy recreation of the voyage of the damned? that's morbid. ghoulish, even. ("guess what, mabel? i've booked us a fabulous cruise on the love-death boat!")

sidebar: auschwitz. the killing fields. pearl harbor. you know what these places have in common? lots of people died there. that, and they're all big tourist destinations. really. look it up.

the difference would seem to be that those places aren't choreographing unintentionally funny re-enactments of the atrocities. (though it appears that the cambodian government is going all-in with a khmer rouge theme park nearby. divine!)

then again, in a world where anything goes if there's money to be made, maybe these people are missing the boat (see what i did there?). maybe what's missing from these solemn, respectful memorials is the chance to experience the sensation of being trapped below deck in a burning ship, or role-playing scenes from sophie's choice.

what? no? too much free-wheeling capitalism? tell that to the folks at the holy land theme park in beautiful orlando, where you can watch a blood-splattered jesus being crucified and resurrected six days a week! but never on sunday. obviously. that would be an outrage.

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breathe.

that's a big part of what you learn in yoga. just...breathe. in. out. focus on being present and balanced. embody a state of wellbeing. move fluidly, languidly, with just enough purpose to feel the heat of your qi.

that i can write this without a hint of irony or self-consciousness is testimony to the blasphemously euphoric effect yoga can have on one's soul. it's that, or my sad susceptibility to the insidious seduction of sin. (a lot of esses there...soundsss like a ssssnake...)

either way...namaste.

things to ponder when you're a pretzel

most of the time at yoga class, i'm in the zone.

which is to say, zoning out. concentrating on staying upright. until someone asks a question or exclaims painfully or tips over.

full disclosure: no one tips over more than moi.

i look forward to these classes every sunday because it's about the only time during the week i'm able to get out of my own head and out of my own way for awhile.

when concentration fails me, and i exit the zone, my mind wanders to some odd and distracting places.

{my knee is numb...i wonder if the feeling will ever come back...i have to pee}

sometimes class runs long. or is particularly arduous, degree-of-difficulty-wise. as noted previously, i'm not particularly pliable. nor am i practiced in the finer, philosophical points of yoga. these factors contribute to additional lapses in focus.

{these women are incredibly flexible...i can totally do this pose...if i dislocate something first}

the instructor, and many of the students, have been practicing a long time. they're annoyingly balanced and limber and strong. me, i'm willing to try really hard. and once in awhile the instructor rewards me with a compliment.

"good, michael...you're less awkward than usual today."

no, she's never really said anything unkind. in fact, she's been nothing but encouraging. she thinks that one day i might reach a state of santi, and get some bhoga from class, if i demonstrate some vidya and don't get all tangled up in granthi.

i think she's right.

{i have no idea what she just said...but she's smiling...quick, nod and smile back}

actually, i am better at this than when i started. i practice some of the poses on the rocker board and the bosu trainer during the week. octogenarians at the ymca regularly compliment me on my balance. i think they must feel sorry for me or something.

{maybe he has some kind of debilitating condition...and at such a young age...poor thing.}

i no longer get as sore in the days following class. i don't fall over quite as often. i stay in the zone a little longer each time. it's a restorative way to start a week that invariably takes a turn for the befeebling.

{that's not a real word...yes but it sounds kinda funny...is there any more champagne?}

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semi-serious note: not a class goes by that i don't think of my friend kary, who also enjoys yoga. i bet she's pretty good at it, too. she doesn't know it, but she's an inspiration to me, sunday and every other day.