Another confession. I have a hopeless crush on a fellow yogi. Hopeless for many reasons. Start with: he’s younger than me. Add: He is tall, dark, and handsome, and those guys are just not that into me. Plus it is plain that Mr. Hot has been severely burnt by the romantic fires of those who are interested in him only because he is gorgeous. He has built his own private Great Wall of China around his chiseled body.

Then there’s respecting studio etiquette. I have never seen anyone making a move. Unlike gyms, those air-conditioned hotbeds of oogling, in the halls of yogadom, the ethos is privacy, mental space. Some Bikram studios forbid any talking in the room, to allow for a quiet that may aid the entrance of meditation. I love that: No on asks upsetting questions or makes mundane remarks. It’s very restful.

So when Mr. Hot was next to me in line waiting for the room to open and when he placed his mat next to mine, I was silent. I could hardly say–I love how you respect yoga. I see how you wait for the teacher’s instructions. I see you respond to life on life’s terms, how you make room for people in the mirror. I see that far from feeling entitled because you are tall, dark, and handsome, in fact your humility makes you feel it has been a burden rather than a gift. Hence your Great Wall.

But I think the only truth that belongs in a yoga studio is the yoga. The only connection, that of mind and body. The only relation, the unity of motion. So as I do half-moon and everything else, I only moon at him and nothing else. But it’s nice to have a crush on someone, eve a hopeless one. It’s young and foolish and frivolous.

Namaste,
Yoga Lily.