I had a new yoga-friend. It’s complicated of course, but suffice to say that we were new friends who took a yoga class together and then decided we’re much better at coffee and the other thing we do together that isn’t at all what you’re thinking.
Anyway, after that first class, I texted him a time or two to ask if he wanted to take another, but he kept saying he was busy (mhmm…), and when I saw him next, he made what I believe to be the greatest confession ever. And I know whereof I speak. I offer this mostly verbatim, because you simply can’t make these things up. Well, I can’t. Usually.
Anyway:
He: “So about yoga…”
Me: “Mhmm…”
He: “I kind of have this little issue…”
Me: “You don’t like the chanting.”
(A note: it’s a serious yoga studio and they do chant a bit. At the novice level it’s simple enough: an “om” here and a “shanti” there. But as one who has inadvertently made an art form of butchering perfectly innocent languages (my headache-inducing Danish or my Turkish-with-a-lisp, for which you’ll have to read the Farrokh installments, darling) I try to take care. Plus, if I’m not 100% sure what I’m saying…well, I’m certainly not going to say it. Usually.
But back to “om”. Whatever it actually does or doesn’t mean, I think it’s rather straight forward, and “shanti” seems to be along the lines of “peace”. So I’m good with that.)
But he is not. And I’ve digressed.
He: “Well, I don’t like the chanting…”
Me: “I knew it!”
He: “But what really bothered me–promise you won’t think I’m horrible…”
Me: “I already think you’re horrible.”
He: “Uh! Anyway, someone was chanting off key.”
Me: (blinking)
He: “And so I tried to harmonize, but this person was so off key that I couldn’t even find a way to make that work. And then I was horrified that you might think I was the one who was off key–which at that point I probably was–and that made me gasp out loud and that was awful, not to mention out of place, and at that point the entire thing became so traumatic and I was so stressed…”
Me: “And now you can’t go back.”
He: “Thank you.”
We offer myriad excuses for the things we choose not to do. But rarely do we have such clarity of reason. I really do adore him.
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fingertip bruises 