|Photo by Anja Schlein|
(It seems that I wrote this draft in November '16 and forgot to post it)
I just took my first Baptiste yoga class today, and I don't know what to think of it.
I have been practicing a style of yoga rooted in Tantra for the last six years, so I am used to classes stepping pretty far from the norms of classical yoga. However, I found myself frequently saying "wouldn't it be nice to hear something in Sanskrit? Or maybe to have someone explain what were doing, instead of just bouncing around to all the really, really, really loud music?"
As class started, there were two young, half dressed, yoga chicks (sorry, that's the best way to describe them) bouncing around like they were on ecstasy. They stopped periodically mid-posture to take selfies. The music was so loud that I couldn't hear what passed for instructions despite the instructor being micced, and frequently "helpers" came around to give adjustments. At one point, while in pigeon, a "helper" placed one hand on my sacrum, another of my back, and then gave me a overly sensual back massage.
Was that yoga?
On a positive note, I'm pretty sure my third eye crossed some sort of dimensional barrier in savasana.