Yoga Bitch

Today's prompt is to talk about something I read online. While there are many articles that anger me, like this one and blogs that make me want to yell at the anti-YouTube generation like this one. But instead of seceding to the online obsession (see Joel Stein, we're not all clones of each other), I thought I'd talk about a book.

I know what is this madness?

Let's not get crazy here. Or, should I say, cray.

The thing about Suzanne Morrison's Yoga Bitch is that not only is it ridiculous funny, it is also ridiculously honest. Like, pretty much every person who has entered a spiritual journey has had embarrassingly simple questions, such as "what if my chakras just don't want to be opened?" or "why is counterclockwise more spiritual than clockwise?"

Morrison is not afraid to ask these questions. She also has an appropriately disgusted reaction to the cult like practice of pee-drinking.

I'm really quite glad they don't drink their pee at Shoshoni.

Reading this book, I could tell that Morrison respects the art of yoga. She idolizes her teacher, and wants to grow. But she also doesn't want to lose her inner cynic. Sometimes, subtle sarcasm is just as important as the subtle body. She revels in overindulgent desserts. She gets too attached to guys.

This is one of the only yoga books whose ultimate message isn't "let go completely of the outer self to experience the inner." Morrison's message is actually much more Buddhist than that; she advocates the middle way. She's not going to sacrifice all the coffee and cigarettes for her inner self. That's far too needy; it's like bowing down to a demanding boyfriend. She'll hang out with the inner self; they'll have some laughs. But she recognizes that sometimes, you just gotta have some ego. It's a special treat, like Sunday pancakes or cake with a brick of chocolate icing.

Namaste.