Through a variety of circuitous routes, I came across this entry from Jason’s Leaping Lanka blog, and found myself not sure whether to laugh or to laugh again and even harder.
I do not know Jason, but sometimes it seems to me as if I do, having tussled with him on the EZBoard and having heard his praises sung by Encinitas ashtangis and others. Apparently Jason is every bit as clever and knowledgeable as his writing would indicate, plus he is a well-respected teacher and a practitioner whose strength, flexibility and focus inspire awe amongst those who would admit to watching.
From time to time, I check out the Leaping Lanka blog to see what is on Jason’s mind. Recently, there was the oft-cited entry about ashtanga blogging and what Jason wishes we would blog about (farts, vaginal farts, sex, sex amongst shala mates, breakups amongst shala mates who used to be having sex, and I’m sorry but that is all I can remember at the moment). I wanted to comment. I wanted to say, “What about your blog? Why not start there?” But each time I typed it out, or something like it, I couldn’t bring myself to hit “publish” because I knew that if I did, the joke would be on me. Or maybe it wouldn’t. I couldn’t tell.
See, I couldn’t figure out if Jason was seriously envisioning himself as standing on the outside looking in on ashtanga blogging. To my mind, he seems to be too intelligent for that. He would have to know that he can’t blog about blogging and not become his own subject matter. Wouldn’t he?
And so, I left it alone. Until today, when I found myself reading the following questions, posed by Jason on December 2, 2006:
“Can ashtanga vinyasa yogis cop to looking at pictures of Britney Spears’ vagina?”
“Can ashtanga vinyasa yogis admit to being more intrigued by Britney Spears’ C-section scar than her vagina?”
What does Britney Spears’ vagina have to do with yoga?
My eyes widened. Was this a direct hit…on me? On my own blog? On my decision to publicize my interest in Britney Spears’s failure to wear panties? On my decision to veer so far off the topic at hand: yoga?
Who knew? But then I laughed. A big hearty laugh that made my older son, playing with his XBox, turn to me and demand to know “WHAT”. What? What, indeed. An entire blog entry about blogging about Britney. You can’t write about blogging about Britney without writing about Britney. You can’t write about Britney without some interest in the topic. Some. I said “some”. Not an all-encompassing obsession. But an awareness of popular culture. An awareness that even a focused yoga practice will not fully eliminate.
“Oh, if only we could live in a cave in the jungle, wear a loincloth, grow our hair and beards, practice the asanas, the pranayama, the meditation, chant the Gita and the Sutras, and know nothing of Britney Spears’ vagina,” Jason goes on to say.
If only?! Uh, not. I like my plush digs, I like to drape my body in flattering cuts of luxurious fabrics, I believe in good grooming, and I like to know which celebrities are engaging in which crass acts in order to get attention. I respect the desire to not be entirely of this world. But it is my particular desire to be of this world. And to practice yoga. To blend them as seamlessly as possible, like a finely emulsified balsamic vinaigrette.
But that’s just me. And this is where I tell the tale.
Oh, and to answer the initial three questions posed above: yes, yes and if it is in my experience, then it goes into my yoga.