I took a yoga class this evening. I figured that I pretty much rule at every aspect of life on this planet, so it was time to tackle an art from another world. When the instructor asked me my goals for attending the class, I answered "To acheive ultimate physical and spiritual perfection." Everyone else in the class laughed, I'm assuming because they were nervous that someone so determined was in their presence.
I then proceeded to get my ass kicked by this class. My understanding was that yoga was about relaxing and breathing and finding your inner spirit or some similar mumbo jumbo. Wrong. Yoga is about testing the limits of your pain threshold. Yoga is about finding the places in your body where your ligaments are comfortably stiff and tearing them mercilessly. Yoga is burning restribution for abusing my body with a sedentary job. Yoga flame. I should have known from Street Fighter 2. Yoga is hell.
I loved it.
Granted, the room full of spandex-clad middle-aged women didn't hurt.
Also, the instructor kept coaxing us to "peer into our third eye" which I thought was a pretty badass thing to say. This is a new stage of life for me. I think I'm going to retreat into my thoughts for a couple months of intense yogic study. When I emerge you will be stunned by my new found flexibility, spiritual centeredness, and supernatural ability to fire balls of flame from my palms.