Awkward Pose

The flight back to NYC from Nashville at the end of the weekend was telling of the sheer force of party folks were having in that dustbowl mayhem. Me in one seat, face covered by scarf, I prefer to sleep in private. Everyone else was a mess of mini jack bottles, multiple drink spillings, loud re-counts of festy moments. I have to admit I’m not all love in those situations. Cover your resentment with a scarf! Drunk red faced adults crammed on a plane crying out like children to the airline hostesses remind me much of the fate of the grown ups in “Spirited Away”. Actually, I might spend the better part of this summer making comparisons in this vein. I also must point out that I too am sometimes a red faced adult in danger of being turned into a pig. My airplane scarf nap was all I could do to quell my weekend long hangover. That’s right, the south has the power to turn raw food and yoga into beer and bourbon at 4am, pranayama into an everlasting headache cured only by more party. Although for me the pull is less about raging in the middle of a field in a dusty bikini, and more about the allure of southern friends, the whole when in Rome thing. Not to say I didn’t have some true Bonaroo music moments; Wanda Jackson singing Shakin’ All Over, priceless indeed. As was Lil’ Wayne- bouncing onto stage dressed like a toddler with a backpack. A backpack full of snacks and possibly more sinister things. A child in knee socks with face tattoos and gang of serious hoochie dancers. Felt a little funny backstage there without my thong-suit and clear stilettos…  

So we definitely survived Bonaroo, and my headache is slowly leaving as I steep myself in the good ol’ north east. I can’t however leave off the nashville post without words about local yoga happenings. Before the insanity of the weekend set in, I was happy to connect with Gillian St. Clair from Steadfast and True Yoga in Nashville. First, possibly the best name for a yoga studio…ever. Second, a really beautiful studio. So tough to find that you’re grateful for not missing the class when you finally hunt it down. Through a weave of buildings, follow the little wooden yoga sign. Aaah, this is not Starbucks yoga. The studio kind of reminded me of the one in Charlottesville, small and wooden, well painted and pretty. Full of people who know each others lives and dedications. Gillian is an excellent teacher and a total badass. She’s sweet, tough as nails, extremely versed in the Ashtanga tradition and smart with her crazy new school sequences. She also drops dharma bombs throughout class that might sound cheesy coming from someone else, but in her sugary drawl they sound just right. Like you’re on horseback and she’s calling out from the farm house- a passage from the Gita drifting across the field. Oh and she has really nice tattoos. So thanks, Ryan Leier, for the intro to Steadfast and True. 

And now back to another reality of sorts, the business of the Big Apple before a month of European festivals ensues. And I will say goodbye to the loveliness of dropping in on yoga studios, and return to the awkwardness of my backstage yoga practice, hence the name of this blog.

Happy long nights of Summer!

Sarah.