I have met the Yoga Nazi. I am barely alive today because of him. There is no doubt in my mind he was part of the holocaust in a past life.
I actually love yoga, do not get me wrong. I try to squeeze in a class if my schedule allows. It’s all happiness, light, peace and your core. Love the world , Buddha and get a great body; a total win-win situation. That is till I met Josef Mengele’s brother aka the Yoga Nazi.
As I walked into the class I knew something was wrong, no teacher up front just everyone breathing loudly and contorting. I felt I was in an Ashram where they had taken the vow of silence. He handed me a piece of paper with the positions on it and I attempted to follow. Of course am a beginner and do not remember all the positions” names. But I tried. And he told me what to do in sign language and stage whispers. I did things I was not aware I was capable of.
After an hour of sweating buckets, feeling completely inept I wondered if I could sneak out and bail, but decided to be the trooper and stick it out. An hour and a half later barely recognizing my former cheerful self, I walked out of there a broken creature, mat in hand seeking the sanctuary of my bed.
Waking the next day and feeling like death warmed over, I dragged my sorry self to work, popping a painkiller. Feeling a sense of camaraderie with those who suffered a similar fate in his class. I will never return to his class; am not a masochist.
I still love yoga, it’s the best, but am not ready to be a swami just yet. I want to be in my regular class with the other happy people, work out and live to tell the tale. . . Namaste!