Day 62

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Nina Singh Jass
Studio: Yoga Sanctuary

Post-Apocalyptic yoga? Waking up in the early afternoon, my sister Annie and I head out into the rainy streets and make our way over to College and Young for an Ashtanga session at the Yoga Sanctuary. Walking in through the doors of the old building, we make our way up a long winding staircase, spiraling around an old-fashioned elevator shaft enclosed in a black cage. As we reach the top floor, we walk through the door marked "Sanctuary". The studio is a gorgeous and massive room with an antique cabinet against the far wall housing wooden blocks, straps and blankets. Unrolling my mat and settling down on my back, my gaze wanders across the arching twenty-foot ceilings with slightly chipping, peeling paint. Listening to the pouring rain hammering down on the roof, my imagination kicks into high gear. Suddenly I'm vividly envisioning life in a crumbling, broken city after the fall of modern civilization. Moving through the familiar Ashtanga poses, my mind's eye paints images of chaos and destruction and the word sanctuary takes on new meaning. I imagine the outside, war-torn world, full of black helicopters circling overhead, mobs in the streets rioting, looting and pillaging. Massive explosions rumble in the distance like guttural growls, rocking the foundation of the building we're practicing in. I hear screaming, panic, disorder and confusion outside in the torrential downpour as the world stage is set on fire. Coming out of a spinal twist and entering final savasana, I can hear the angry barbarians three floors down, the decrepit survivors of the old world pounding on the barred doors. The thunderous attack on the entrance sends hellish reverberations echoing up the stairwell of the old building. I can hear the hinges starting to give way under the weight and force of a battering-ram and I know it will only be a matter of seconds before they snap and the ravenous mob comes spilling inside. As I focus on my third eye, I hear the doors crash open, followed by the sound of a legion of footsteps clambering and thumping up the stairs like drums in the deep. Soon the invading hoards will be at the doors of the sanctuary, forcing their way in. The bloodthirsty marauders will descend upon us, devouring the peaceful yogis, ripping us limb from limb. The end of the world is upon us, a black eternal night enveloping Mother Earth, ushering humanity back into the dark ages once and for all.

Leaving the studio and walking outside, opening my umbrella to shield myself from the crying sky, the world has not come to an end just yet. The gears are still rotating, the traffic is still flowing. The Sun will still rise again. Making our way up the avenue, Annie drops a bombshell. She has booked me a full body massage nearby, complete with luxurious aroma therapy, hot oils and enchanting Reiki energy work. Entering back into the real world in a blissful stupor, my Apocalyptic fantasies have fallen to the wayside. This planet is still beautiful despite its flaws and misgivings. I haven't given up on us yet.


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