I would like to be good at yoga. It’s something serene, powerful and in control. I wish I could go every week, but I don't. I wish I could touch my feet without bending my knees, but I don't. I do manage to go to a class every once in a while and I do manage to touch my feet without too much of a bend in my knees when I'm sitting down. I'm that kind of yoga person.

This evening I went again. This was a new class for me and I believe I never had two teachers who practiced the same kind of yoga. Sometimes you're jumping around and other times you're lying on the floor stretching your back (my favourite). I didn't know what to expect in this reeking gym room, but I didn't expect a man with a beard and a long, grey dress. It did set a tone, as if I knew how this lesson would be.

And it was. It was spiritual. Every movement came with a mantra and we ended in a meditation. I never dare to let me go with meditation; too afraid I'll fall asleep and snore. The mantra-singing was new for me. I had to let go of the embarrassment and hope no one was filming me (I always imagine people film me and then, in a group, watching it and laugh at me, as if I’m Truman in The Truman Show), and then my singing was the loudest. If you do something, do it with passion.

The strangest compliment:
"You have a very good intuition". And that because I remembered the frog pose (which speaks for itself, I think). But maybe I didn't hear it good.
Not one teacher ever praised me because I am so nice and flexible or strong. But that says more about me than about them, sadly.