Spilled Water Broken Glass
You know that feeling of television cringe? When there's a brand of TV that's just humiliation cringe. You may best recognize it from shows like The Office or British humor—Meet the Parents was one of those kinds of comedies too, where things just kept going wrong and the awkward moments people had to live through.
This story from my life embodies that essence, albeit not exactly the same. It's one of those tales that are excellent in retrospect and only in retrospect.
So, many years ago, when I was relatively new to hot yoga but had started to become a regular, my practice was intense. I practiced daily, regularly, and with fervor. I had just begun Bikram yoga, which is not only hot yoga but performed at 106 degrees with pumped-in humidity, making the conditions brutally difficult.
The amount I was sweating during each class started to seem remarkable to me. I would finish class, run to the locker room with my towel, and wring it out with puddles of sweat hitting the shower floor. Of course, I'd capture all this on my phone in an attempt to create content—designed to show the viewer the unfathomable amount of work I had just put in. I remember one friend responded to my graphic display of sweat boasting by saying it was 'Fake.' To me, this was akin to being accused of using steroids when you aren't.
I also love to see a brand new student come in and effortlessly get through the class, making me question my progress. I do this every day—this was their very first time! How are they almost as good as me their very first time! I’ve been doing this 9 years! It’s great to see people’s different strengths and weaknesses.
Sometimes, when the instructor says, 'No water until after eagle pose,' it is met by stares of disbelief and even anger from the students. One time, I brought a friend of mine who attempted to leave the room during class.
One of my favorite things to do, and it’s totally a mental strength meditative thing that has evolved into quietly showing off, is when the first and only communal water break comes. And I do not move. I do not sip water. These days I don’t even bring water into the room. I try to keep perfectly still possible. Sometimes I think about those store performer guys and I think about how at that moment, my task is to remain as still as them. The class moves to and fro, wiping themselves with towels and sipping water, adjusting their clothing and hair, as I try to slow my breathing down to an invisible level, trying to slow my heart down.
Anyway, in this class, I did bring water. And it was the first time I didn’t drink water during class. Enjoying observing the struggles of new students in the class, not out of cruelty, but because it served as a reminder of how far I had come in my own practice. Seeing someone excel on their first try was also interesting, as it highlighted the different natural abilities people can have.
However, as class ended and we were dismissed, a sudden urge propelled me out the door, racing to the showers. But as I flew down the stairs, I tripped on my own sweat, the 64-ounce glass jar of water flying out of my hand and crashing down the stairs. I had fallen, grabbing the railing, and ended up breaking my pinky. I landed on some glass and my foot was bleeding. I got to the bottom and cried out, "Hey Angela! I broke some glass, I'm sorry." The teacher urgently told the entire class to not move, and a scene unfolded.
Before leaving, I spoke to Angela, the teacher, and said, "Also, this was the best class I'd ever had until then!" She responded, "Yes, it was." She had seen the progress in my practice. Despite the chaos I had caused, I had performed exceptionally well.
Just then, I heard a crash—"Andy!" Angela exclaimed, as the maintenance worker had slipped on the water and fallen into the broken glass. The teacher even asked if he needed her to call an ambulance, which was a very funny and imperfect moment. I could not possibly have felt worse.
Eventually, the chaos subsided, and as I left, she helped me while looking up something on my account file. I beamed with pride and said, "Oh, this is my first time here," She thought this was funny. "Luckily, I have had this teacher before though," I mentioned. The receptionist seemed amused by my enthusiasm, despite the incident. “Oh, and did I mention there were two of my cute co-worker friends there witnessing the whole affair?”
Well, I definitely got attention that day.
I had to pause my trial until my finger healed, but I became a regular at that studio. Seeing Andy daily was challenging, especially considering my desire to avoid his gaze. I felt awful but I tried to send him appreciative and apologetic energy. It was a tough situation to recover from though. I couldn't possibly be his favorite. I get it.
Today, I took a class with this yoga teacher for the first time since that day. I hadn’t seen her in years. The yoga studio I now go to has been bought by a studio she works at, so she’s now a regular teacher there. I reminded her of the story, and she didn’t even remember, which is an important lesson. I took class with her today, and it was very challenging and excellent. Some things are constant, feeling humiliated, usually is not.