Suck it up!

There was way too much sulking on the way to yoga.  Why did I have to fool around with the only awesome teacher I’d found after weeks of searching in Tucson and only days after taking his class?  Unfair, unfair, unfair.  And it was his fault too, for asking me out in the first place.  Since I’d already bitched to my sis and yoga friends in other locations (keeping a hard line on my localized version of a ‘kiss don’t tell’ policy despite the oddity of blogging about it) and I couldn’t think of any one else to call I called on Tara.

My prayer was heartfelt and mournful.  Why oh why can’t I find what I’m looking for and why can’t I accept what I have as exactly what I need?  Please fill me with as much light and understanding as you can, dispel my suffering and impart the words of wisdom that I need to hear in order to see things more clear.

“Suck It Up.”

While unexpected, the advice rang true.  I mulled it over that advice for a few minutes and when I got on an offramp and was waiting for the light to change I grabbed a pen and the only thing near by that I could write on, a dixie cup.  Then it hit me–I really, really do need to suck it up…  Visualize it, chop it up with a hook knife, throw it in a skull cup, tantra the shit out of it until it transforms into bliss nectar and then suck it up as an antidote to this unenlightened nature that continues to cause my suffering. That’s the practice of Chod and, coincidentally, it’s the practice of the wandering yogis and yoginis.  And I was wandering from studio to studio, that’s for sure.

Satisfied and more than a little amused, I popped the Chod CD that I just happened to have at arms length (thanks to my ex bf Mike T) into my stereo, gunned the v8 and resolved to get my flow on at  “Yoga Oasis” on Campbell.


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