I’ve been posting a lot in my own blog about doing yoga. I started taking yoga classes nine weeks ago because I thought it would be a nice workout without killing me. I was out of shape. Okay, technically round is a shape. I’ve kind of wanted to take yoga for awhile but there wasn’t a class near me in Ohio and, well, yoga sounds so woo-woo. As I mentioned in my own blog, my instructor’s name was Sapphire, which worried me*. In the first class, I was a little worried when we talked about opening the colon. I braced myself and waited for the onslaught of chakras and energy coursing through my body.

To quote myself: They… say appalling new age things in yoga. I took a class where we concentrated on our back muscles. (That’s a good thing, actually. When I told my doctor I was taking yoga he said he often tells men in their forties that if they want to avoid back surgery, they should start taking yoga right now.) The teacher started talking about how we would be lifting our palate. Yeah, we would be lifting the roof of our mouth. And when we did that, our breath energy (our prana) would circulate down our spine to our sitting bone and then come back up the front of our body to our heart. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
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