The Yogateria Chronicles: A Sinister Danger

9 Jan
Actual unretouched photo of Yogi Nav. Credit: Deepak,

Actual unretouched photo of Yogi Nav.
Credit: Deepak,

There comes a time in every man’s life when he must confront his conscience. We, as men, walk through our journey of life, and in the corner of our minds we see haunting reflections of what should have been, much as one’s eyes catch glimpses of reflections walking past a shop window, ethereal ghosts a silent testament to wrong paths chosen along the way.

It is now, at a point that is near the half way point of my life, but which is not the half way point of my life, a life that has seen both sorrow and joy, defeat and triumph, and paucity of rum and a plethora thereof, that I can no longer run from the truth of my actions, actions which I told myself were justified, but that were in fact not.

I Photoshopped the above image of myself. I am not the paragon of yogic splendour that you see portrayed.

My body, which is a male body, and a large male body and not a small male body, small bodies weighing much less than large bodies as a general rule, has a shape. It is a shape which is not a typical shape, and it is a shape which does not lend itself to the practice of yoga let alone its perfection, nor does it lend itself to tying one’s shoes, nor any other activity in the realm of human affairs that has, as a fundamental attribute, the requirement to bend.

It is characterized by a large head, of a stature which does not just invite being characterized as large, but rather demands to be decreed as massive in proportion to the rest of me. At the other end are thunderous thighs that can barely hold the glorious bulk of me, beast that I am, aloft at the best of times. There is also, of course, the ponderous belly necessary to hold the great caloric reserves demanded by such a large head and struggling legs. All of which are complimented by stubby little arms that can barely reach one another, let alone any other part of me.

Actual unretouched image of my head. Human silhouettes for comparison purposes.

Actual unretouched image of my head. Human silhouettes for comparison purposes.

It is thus, having purged my soul of its uncleanliness, in much the same way as the Ancient Mariner rid himself of the albatross hung around his sun scorched neck, that I can now convey to any who stumble across these humble words the next chapter in the yogateria chronicles.

My first exposure to yoga, which nearly cost me my life, left me older, wiser, lighter by at least 50 lbs, and more flexible. Rumour has it that in Ottawa the next day, lithe 20-something’ish female business professionals were all discussing the great yoga scandal of 2014, being both scandalized AND mortified at the great transgression that had transpired. “OMG, he didn’t! He said ‘Butter chicken’ in response to namaste? That’s very bad. That’s terrible. He could be banned.”

The first yoga was candlelight hot yoga. It happened on a Sunday night. Like the fool that I am, I decided to do interval training on an elliptical machine the next day, the next day being the Monday, a day of penance for my great yogateria transgression. Penance for my penance, perhaps, as one who has uttered the blasphemous “butter chicken” cannot be penitent enough.

Thus cleansed, I could go to my second foray in the now semi-sacred yogateria on the Tuesday. I did go, but I did not go alone. Accompanying me was The Nameless One, so named as she may not be named. It again was hot yoga, but not of the candlelight variety, for such variety is to only be found during the sacred calm of the Sunday eve. This was to be of the fully lit variety, with all my fellow penitents in full view.

My suffering was of a similar nature. I need not recount the unnatural contortions to which my poor body, a body which is not small and does not bend of its own free will, was repeatedly subjected to. It goes without saying.

Despite all the suffering of the supplicant spandex-clad sinners who so densely populated the dungeon floor, suffering greater than any soul should have to bear throughout an eternity, it is not the pain and suffering of that evening which even now pervades my every waking thought.

It was when The Nameless One said, upon exiting Dante’s hot yogateria, “Did you see the one with the cute boy shorts?”

I sensed danger. Not the obvious danger of the majestic lion poised to pounce on its doomed prey, nor the less obvious danger of the frozen outstretched crocodile’s jaw about to snap shut on its hapless victim. It was a sinister danger, made even more sinister by the innocence with which it portrayed itself.

It was a trap.

For, as with the name of The Nameless One, the young lady of the conformal spandex boy shorts too had a name. She, clearly being of the line of the progeny of Helen of Troy, yet not being an ordinary descendent of said lineage, but rather a spandex clad descendent, and a scantily clad and flexible one at that, deserved a name. Her name was not a normal name, but a name of grace, of classical grace and not contemporary grace, a name that history will forever record. Her name was The Bottom that Launched a Thousand Ships.

A woman will test her man. She will test her man while seeming to not test her man. It will be a subtle test, such as innocently wondering if he had noticed The Bottom that Launched a Thousand Ships, who happened to be downward dogging directly in front of him in a brilliantly lit and sultry room for the excruciating duration of 60 minutes.

A younger man will not understand that he is being tested, and will stumble into the trap laid for his demise. Not so an older and wiser man. And so, being not young and therefore older and wiser, I did what I must do, for a man must do what he must do.

I lied.

It was not a little white lie, nor was it even a little lie. Yet is was not an outrageous lie either, as older and therefore wiser men know that such lies are just as likely to spring the cunning trap as is the ignorance of youth. It was thus an in between lie, it being between the little lie and the outrageous lie in terms of the injury caused to that most noble lady, Truth.

Thus, in fear for my life far more than for my soul, I replied, “No, I was too busy focussing on my balance.”

It is thus only by the grace of God and my own quick wit that I survived my second foray into Dante’s hot yogateria. It would not be my last. For in my next decent into Dante’s yogateria, I encountered…

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

compass rose

30 Responses to “The Yogateria Chronicles: A Sinister Danger”

  1. Dalo 2013 January 9, 2014 at 9:53 pm #

    Another fabulous post… “A woman will test her man. She will test her man while seeming to not test her man.” And we fail the test as if we were puppets on strings…controlled by said woman. I take solace in this post πŸ™‚

    • navigator1965 January 9, 2014 at 10:58 pm #

      It appears as if we are brothers in this. Thank you for the kind comment. Yes, they may not have invented calculus, but there are ways in which the fairer sex run cognitive-emotive circles around us.

      So glad you found solace in these words. };-)>

  2. KG January 9, 2014 at 10:11 pm #

    This is getting interesting day by day….now I am eagerly waiting for the next one already. πŸ˜€

    • navigator1965 January 9, 2014 at 11:00 pm #

      Thank you, KG. The next Yogateria Chronicles probably may not happen until the weekend.


      • KG January 9, 2014 at 11:20 pm #

        Now I am tempted to use those two words ‘butter chicken’ πŸ˜‰

  3. Susan Lattwein January 9, 2014 at 10:38 pm #

    And he will test her. For life is a quest of tests, is it not?

    • navigator1965 January 9, 2014 at 11:01 pm #

      By the time he’s even thought to test her, he doesn’t realise that testing her is a test which he has failed.

      • Susan Lattwein January 10, 2014 at 12:18 am #

        Testing is a testy pastime, if you ask me. Meant to ask if I can steal your description of said yoga participant’s bottom for my sequel, for hero to say. It is pretty good. Passed that test, for sure.

      • Susan Lattwein January 10, 2014 at 1:38 pm #

        Ooooh, then again. Aspiring Urban Farmer here has taken to your description with a little too much enthusiasm. He remembered a comment about an ex PMs statuesque figure, that it ‘could kick-start a jet engine.’ And he’s getting stuck on quantitative aspects, ie. a thousand. Way too much to contribute. Agrees with testing issue, thinks he might have responded with thinly veiled truth, ‘Not a patch on yours, dear.’

  4. Jami January 10, 2014 at 1:04 am #

    Mahahahaha! Brilliant. I am so happy for you too! Yoga does an unbendy body so much good. Our bodies do so much for us, and it’s only logical that we should offer thanks in return…even if it resists at first! πŸ˜›

    • navigator1965 January 11, 2014 at 3:23 pm #

      Thanks, Jami. It is good for me, stiff codger that I am.

      It is resisting, though. Enough for at least one more Yogateria Chronicles, at least.

  5. idiotwriter January 10, 2014 at 11:13 am #

    They do not call you Navigator for nonsense then ey πŸ˜‰ Good job and well ‘played’ – sort of … You see the correct thing to do would have been….I am not going to tell you where you went wrong there……mwahahahahah….:D You will have to practice a particular yoga move called ‘The begging dog’. It involves humorous honesty; chocolate and distraction with uplifting, and not too obvious complimentary conversation. (not with the ship launcher EITHER!).
    See, women already know if our men have spotted a honey – we have spotted her before you and like a bitch on heat we can smell the fear on you lest we have caught you looking (which we have and always do of course) – so the test is not whether you are ooogling the buttocks but whther you are going to be honest about it.

    Oh I forgot I was not going to tell you…SHUCKS! πŸ˜‰

    • navigator1965 January 11, 2014 at 3:25 pm #

      How true are your words! What we can’t figure out is who died and left the women in a position to judge us?

      Thanks for the insight. And yes, women scope out the other women faster than guys do.

      • idiotwriter January 11, 2014 at 3:31 pm #

        EXACTLY! πŸ˜‰ Because DARE a man judge a woman for shovelling chocolate down her throat πŸ˜‰ (well not really but you get the picture!)

      • idiotwriter January 11, 2014 at 3:32 pm #

        To answer more clearly – society – society died and left the gaping hole ~ at least – it was murdered right πŸ˜‰

  6. LindaGHill January 10, 2014 at 3:25 pm #

    Better be careful The Nameless One doesn’t get hold of your blog, oh One With Fingertips Who Could Sink a Thousand Submarines. πŸ˜‰

  7. Dotta Raphels January 11, 2014 at 6:23 am #

    Lol, Idiotwriter took the words right outta my mouth!

    The lady does know when she’s been lied to, she smiles a knowing smile; at least, our Nav was clever enough to act dumb πŸ™‚

    As for the yoga adventures Nav, you paint a far scarier picture than I want to believe. why, an ex military fella like yourself? Over extended arms and large head and bulging belly? Lies! πŸ™‚

    I do think the nameless one should continue on this quest, we’ll make a yogi of you still…soon.

    • idiotwriter January 11, 2014 at 11:41 am #

      πŸ˜‰ ONly thing – it is one test seldom passed. I think the reason is mostly because our men know that we know and out of respect do not want to make a big deal of it and let us feel bad – so they don’t. Because – and this took a while to figure out – he may have a look…but the reasons why are no reflection on us and we may never understand them. Well mostly πŸ˜‰ I am convinced that a man looking at beautiful curves is like a woman reading beautiful poetry or smelling lovely flowers given us by our man.The way to a womans trigger is her ears and taste buds – for a man – it is his eyes. πŸ˜€ Something like that!!!

    • navigator1965 January 11, 2014 at 3:28 pm #

      Times are paradoxical when acting dumb is the smart thing to do. Actually, it’s not so bad. And yes, The Nameless One will continue with her quest tomorrow evening for our 2nd candlelight hot yoga at Dante’s Yogateria.

      • Dotta Raphels January 11, 2014 at 4:18 pm #

        Good on you Nav. I can’t wait to resume yoga,the year’s began on a rather busy note and this body and soul desperately needs some comfort.

  8. otsrnameless January 11, 2014 at 11:01 am #

    I found your post most informative. Thank you. For the record, speaking as the one who dragged you kicking and screaming to the Yogateria, it WAS an innocent question but now I know better OR is this a test? Gotcha!

  9. LC Aggie Sith January 11, 2014 at 4:51 pm #

    I gave up “tests” long ago. Hubby is brutally honest, and thus it never quite worked in my favor. I will say that as soon as I stopped testing him, he became worried πŸ˜‰

    • navigator1965 January 11, 2014 at 5:06 pm #

      That means that not testing is a test. Or is it?

      • LC Aggie Sith January 11, 2014 at 5:52 pm #

        I can neither confirm nor deny that πŸ˜€


  1. The Yogateria Chronicles: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo | The Mirror - February 1, 2014

    […] The Yogateria Chronicles: A Sinister Danger […]

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