Chapter 6: Ick and Two Dollar Flags

I brushed my teeth with doggie toothpaste this morning. Not intentionally, mind you. The tube said NATURAL in large letters and it was a brand called St John's. Looked like something you'd get at the health food store -- tasted like it, too. It was when I picked up the tube to see what flavor could possibly taste so bad when I saw the word DOG.

I had a momentary panic today thinking about the training. It passed.

I took the day off. Even though I had some down time in Flagstaff I'm still exhausted from all the driving. I spent most of today lying down reading and napping. I had a curious moment when reading the LA Weekly. First I read an interview with internet celebrity of the moment, Tamim Ansary. He's the Afghani-American who wrote that note about why it would be redundant to bomb Afghanistan into the stone age. He's been elevated from writing mediocre children's books to political commentator. Warhol was so right. Then, I turned the page to begin reading an article called Media Fundamentalism by John Powers. By the end of paragraph one I thought it sounded familiar. By the end of paragraph two I realized I had already read it. It was forwarded to an email list I belong to last week. Say what you will about the hype, the changes being wrought on our minds and society by the internet are tangible. It seems as though we truly are moving towards creating a group mind even if the most immediate signs are nothing more than bad jokes and mindless hoaxes.

Speaking of bad jokes and mindless hoaxes.. Elvis lives, at least in the heart (and on the head and face) of a Stucco contractor I met today who is working on my brother's renovation. He was a short, stocky and blustery fella with a stiff black pompadour wig and near-mutton-chop side burns. When he talked (which was constantly) he liked to make eye contact with everyone in the room so he kept turning his head from side to side making sure to give everyone equal time. He had to hold his head perfectly level so his hair wouldn't slide of his head. Then again, maybe he just had stiff neck and the hair was real. Nah. And he doesn't look a thing like Elvis.

Since the focus of this message seems to be humor... Use the link below to see who I'm sharing the living room floor with. Trouble is no longer with us but Molly is quite a pleasant creature. (The page is slow loading -- my brother is a programmer, not a web designer.)

http://wps.com/about-WPS/personal/dogs.html

Copyright 2005 E. Jennings

Posted with the permission of the author. If you enjoy or would like to read additional excerpts of this journal, please email your comments to: Webmaster@BikramYoga.com

Chapter 7:

Nice of her to let me use her toothpaste...

I went by the Bikram studio today to scope out the route, the neighborhood and the parking situation. It looks like a converted mechanic's garage. One of the guys behind the counter, Ted, nailed me as a trainee the minute I walked in. Not that that would have been difficult. There wasn't a class going on and I think there are almost 300 of us arriving in town this weekend for the session. I'm sure there have been a lot of trainees stopping by and getting their bearings. I sensed an air of excitement but I'm not sure if it wasn't just me projecting a little of my own excitement on the place. Tomorrow is the first day of school.

This is a large city. This is a very large city. I spent most of today driving around this fucking very large city figuring out where things are. Basically, everything is really far from everything else. I like it, though. There are an incredible number of options for just about anything you could want: restaurants, book stores, music stores, thrift stores, art galleries, parks, movie theatres, live theatres and flags. American flags. Everywhere. On every corner, in the middle of every block, in every restaurant window (especially the Greek, Turkish, Persian and generally anything resembling middle eastern restaurants), on every t-shirt, newspaper, magazine, on every government building, every billboard, and appropriately, on every SUV. I think it's enough. Would you ask them to stop?

One of my goals today was to locate a store that has a USB SmartCard reader so I could transfer some photos from my camera to my laptop. I called ahead to minimize my driving time (yeah, right) and was put on hold by Office Depot. The other stores just kept my fingers dancing in the never-ending button mash until I hung up in disgust - is that what they're trying to do? Anyway, while on hold waiting for Office Depot to piss me off enough to hang up, I naturally had to listen to a litany of special deals and offers. I expected that. What I didn't expect was to hear Jimi Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner supra-imposed in the background. Would you PLEASE ask them to stop?

I found a SmartCard Reader so I was able to upload the pictures from my trip out (BROKEN LINK TO BE REPAIRED SOMEDAY)

Copyright 2005 E. Jennings

Posted with the permission of the author. If you enjoy or would like to read additional excerpts of this journal, please email your comments to: Webmaster@BikramYoga.com

Chapter 8: Reluctant Acolyte

Holy shit! What have I gotten myself into -- oh wait, that's how I'm supposed to start tomorrow's email. Today was just the orientation. Let me start over..

I felt like a little kid about to enter the 3rd grade this morning. I was alternately excited and scared. My adrenal glands have hair triggers and it's common for me to feel a surge of juice in a variety of situations. I had about a 15 minute rush of it on the drive to the orientation. It may be one of the reasons I'm so exhausted tonight and feeling drained. In some situations I can appreciate a good adrenaline high but in many cases I wish I could turn it off. When I last lived out here (Bay area - 15+ years ago) I once had someone offer me some human adrenaline extract. It was the drug of the month at that time. I turned it down.

I'm more excited than I am apprehensive. I'm more confident than I am worried. I'm anxiously looking forward to the whole thing getting started and seeing how it unfolds. I've got some resistance that I'm going to do my best to let go of. I'm not a big fan of the guru thing. I enjoy learning from people but my anti-authoritarian tendencies get stirred up when respect, appreciation and gratitude start to sound like worship and adulation. I've never really wanted a guru. I'm not a follower. I'm not a worshipper -- of anything. Then again, it might just be a semantic thing. I trust my Atlanta teachers and I am willing to put myself in their hands. I trust this yoga and I am willing to put my body into it fully. I will probably learn to trust Bikram. Like I said, I'm going to do my best to lose the resistance. He'd just better not ask me to wash his feet.

I'm also starting to feel some resistance to continuing this journaling thing now that the training is about to start. In fact, that's all I have to say about it. You may stay tuned but I don't know what's to come next or when it will come, if at all. Perhaps it's time to be quiet for a little while....

Copyright 2005 E. Jennings

Posted with the permission of the author. If you enjoy or would like to read additional excerpts of this journal, please email your comments to: Webmaster@BikramYoga.com

Chapter 9: Oh Fuck!

Actually, day one was and wasn't as bad as I've been warned. Bikram was in a good mood and he was very personable. He also went easy on us. We only did one class today and we were done and out of there by 8 pm.

I should explain what I mean by "class" to those of you who are unfamiliar with the Bikram program. I suppose you could say I'm in class all day long -- posture clinic, Bikram lecturing, Anatomy, and performing the full set of 26 postures -- but I use it to refer solely to the 26 postures. A "class" is the hour and a half period when we perform the 26 postures in sequence in the heated room. We're scheduled to do two of those each day. Yesterday, since it was our fist day, Bikram went easy on us and all we had was 2-3 hours of his introductory talk, a lunch break, then 4 hours during which each of the 262 students stood and introduced themselves (largest contingents were Colorado, Vancouver and Australia!). We then took a dinner break, came back and had our first class with Bikram. It was brutal. Estimates ranged from 110 to 120 degrees -- I even saw some of Bikram's teachers sitting out postures and gulping gallons of water. One left the room to refill his jug. To those of us who practice in Atlanta, leaving the room is almost sacrilege. We are also encouraged to keep our water intake to a minimum, something which I found easy to do since my water become so hot it provided no relief. At one point, well into the series, it looked as if more than half the class was sitting or lying down. In spite of it, Bikram told us how well we were doing and that he thought we were doing much better than most groups do on their first day. Of course, he might say that to all his trainees...

It's doubtful I'm going to have the energy to write again until the weekend. I also can't promise any thoughtful insights. Even with the early ending last night I came home exhausted and feeling inarticulate. I'm sure it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Much of the day is overwhelming just dealing with the large numbers of people in a facility that is really too small for it. The shower room was almost disgusting after only one class and the studio itself is already stinky with body odor. It's safe to say that surviving nine weeks of this is going to be the biggest challenge of my life.

One small hope I have is that Bikram may have to force himself to stop talking before midnight. They've arranged for those of us with cars to park in a covered lot that closes at midnight. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Bikram won't offer them more money to stay open later.

Well, it's 8 am and I've got to go back to the torture chamber.

Copyright 2005 E. Jennings

Posted with the permission of the author. If you enjoy or would like to read additional excerpts of this journal, please email your comments to: Webmaster@BikramYoga.com