to me it's literally like doing yoga in a sweat lodge. prayer, sweating, moaning, crying, old stuff pouring out, new feelings coming through. i really have a love hate relationship going with it right now. i love it, but there are moments when i am thinking/screaming in my head, "is this really necessary?!" i haven't come to any final conclusion but feel that's it'sfor the best at this point. it's like being in boot camp sometimes and it is really really hard. it really gives me compassion for my birthing mommas at the hospital, though. sometimes when i am in there i wonder if the extreme suffering in there is like labor and i try and think about it like that. have more compassion in my heart and meditate on what the right things to say are when you feel like giving up. i can understand when women stop listening to those around them, tuning out and not pushing or whatever. i certainly tune out the teacher sometimes because i am in another world, or a world of hurt, as they say.

i spent a particularly rotten (read: flippin hell-like hot) class about a month ago facing my proverbial abuser. first i was mad: i am not letting you do this to me anymore! and i am leaving, yup, whenever i want, i can leave. yup, outta here! and then: hey, maybe i'm in control of my life and i do what i want, not everything is a reaction to you, bastard. you are not getting the best of me! and then, why do i have to be so bloody tough, anyway? maybe i should just get into anusara yoga or some ashtanga circus stuff, or whatever, but i hate this hell-hole... oh, thank god, we're about to do the spine twist, i hate this one and it's a waste of my time anyway and then i am sooooo out of here, gone. i took a few days off, but i was back... and sitting near the door two days later.

bikram, bikram, bikram, i don't know what it is about the guy...i mean, he could have saved elvis (or so my teacher says), but i just don't know.