“Turning yourself into a pretzel is less important than coming to center.”
People fond of such aphorisms, I can’t help notice, have no problem pretzeling themselves at will. Me, I huff, I puff, I grunt, I teeter-totter on the balls of my feet, trying to hold a basic warrior pose. Eventually I re-establish my breath, and then its on to the next position, and fresh agonies.
Sweat enough, and you forget yourself. Shavasana arrives like your own happy coffin. An afternoon baptism: death, burial and resurrection. Then you roll over onto your side, reborn.
You’ve earned a pint.
I’m not sure why people didn’t think of this earlier, but the beer and yoga era is upon us. MacLeod has its own yogi now, Jess Bishop, up from WeHo on Sunday afternoons.
The cool concrete floor is well-suited to practice.
Jess entered her practice from the side door of college athletics at Pitt, where she ran track and obtained a Masters in Teaching. “Yoga deceived me. I thought it would make me a better runner”, said Jess, “but what it taught me is acceptance.”
There followed three years of teaching English in Phoenix, a bad breakup, moving to LA, acting, yoga teacher training (on the advice of her mother) and steady work based out of CorePower along with private sessions.
“There’s something about taking an hour for movement and mindfulness and breath, then unwinding with a beer.”
Twelve bucks, Sundays at 1pm. Chaser pint included. Down, dog. Brewasana.