Ian Henschke: The best and the worst parts of group yoga classes
HERE’S a bonus Brainwaves question. What do Sting, Prince William, Alec Baldwin, Posh, Becks and I have in common? We all like doing the “downward dog” a few times a week, writes Ian Henschke.
HERE’S a bonus Brainwaves question. What do Sting, Prince William, Alec Baldwin and I have in common? Oh, and I forgot to mention Victoria and David Beckham share the same passion. Reportedly, they do it regularly.
Give up? Well Sting, the future King, the Trump impersonator, Posh and Becks, and
I all like doing the “downward dog” a few times a week.
A lot of blokes reading this might be a bit puzzled. Their minds could have even drifted off to all sorts of places. But most female readers understood immediately what I’m talking about. That’s because when I do my “downward dog” on a Saturday and Sunday morning, I’m surrounded by women.
Men are always outnumbered. It’s at the rate of somewhere between 15 and 10 to one. I’m not sure why.
When I first discovered yoga as an 11-year-old, I assumed it was a male pursuit. The yogi in the Teach Yourself Yoga book I borrowed from my local library was a man.
And I only got interested in it because Percy Cerutty, who coached the unbeatable Herb Elliott, said doing yoga should be part of your training. It was a way for an athlete to develop a winning edge.
A couple of years after I started my self-taught regimen, a remarkable woman appeared on TV teaching the art of meditation and bodily manipulation. Her name was Swami Sarasvati.
The supple Swami seemed so exotic. She wore a saffron-coloured leotard and spoke with a strong Indian accent. There were strains of sitar music in the background and this was all happening on commercial TV, on the new station, Channel 10.
Her half-hour show ran every weekday morning and premiered in 1968 about the same time as The Beatles headed to their ashram in India. She also talked of the benefit of meditating and I found it all very attractive.
I was a teenager, happy to grow my hair, cross my legs and join the swami army. It was a great feeling to be supple in mind and body. To relax when I ran and breathe with ease. Percy Cerutty was right. It helped me achieve athletic success, even if it was only at schoolboy level.
Skip forward half a century and now I’m the father of teenagers who do yoga, too. I booked them in for classes last year and now they love it. We’ve just got back from a holiday to Queensland and we had a lovely class as a family while staying in hills outside Brisbane.
Then we headed to the Gold Coast. To my surprise, the council had subsidised ($3) yoga classes all over the place. The best was at Burleigh Heads on Saturday morning. The
sun had only risen for an hour over the blue Pacific Ocean. There was a crowd of a
hundred or so, of all ages, on the lawn, under a double row of Norfolk pines. The waves
were quietly crashing, in time with my breathing. It was blissful.
After the class, I told the teacher how happy I was and he said: “Well if you want to go again tomorrow there’s another class up the hill in the local hall.”
So, on Sunday morning on the last day of our holidays I got up early and went to the class. The only trouble was this time because we were inside, there was no fresh ocean breeze or sound of the sea. There was hardly any spare floor space and I got stuck next to an odd red-headed woman. She had a face like tanned leather which I soon discovered was from smoke as well as sun. She was also the Sharapova of yoga. She grunted and puffed and groaned, and broke my concentration.
She made so much noise I’m sure she broke wind during the downward dog. She also stank of stale cigarettes. After an hour, when the class ended, I just felt I had to say something.
“Have you got a cold?” I said.
“No. Why do you ask?” she shot back.
“Oh, it’s just you were breathing so heavily.”
“Well, that’s just the way I do yoga.”
“Are you a smoker, too?” I asked.
This set her off. “What if I am. I bet you’re a meat eater because you’re so rude and aggressive. I eat vegetables and I don’t go around telling you what to do.”
“Have a nice day,” I said as I walked away muttering to myself, “I bet you smoke plenty of vegetable matter, too.”
I think I had better do a bit more meditation or yoga classes in front of the ocean from now on. Namaste.