Okay, I've had some more time to process this yoga teacher training business. I've also had time to throw out my hip again, burn the fuck out of my hand, develop a series of migraines, and I may have broken two toes, which is pretty typical in a week of being Ashley.
I went from sheer, insomniatic (spellcheck says I made that word up, which is awesome of me. I can't think of a better word and I like how it sounds) panic to devastating, soul-crushing defeat to fuck it, let's do this shit. I waver a bit on the fuck it, let's do this shit but I'm kind of committed now, having signed my life away, taken on a part-time job in which I won't get paid for to pay for it, and experienced the encouragement and support of all of these people that I don't want to annoy.
Here are the possibilities:
1. True enlightenment and mastery of yoga and personal self.
2. A physically painful but moderately amusing experience.
3. A physically and emotionally painful but empowering experience.
4. I die.
I could write a book about any of those except dying (unless I was revived with no damage and then that would be one hell of a story about how I almost died doing yoga. It might be worth it.)
At this point, I'm more nervous about the work trade. I haven't done 300 hours of anything but sitting on the couch in a long time. I do like the work, I feel super fancy using the boutique's scanning gun and dressing the mannequin. Apparently I mop really wrong, though, as I am reminded and re-taught frequently and there is some baffled sighing and exchanging of glances that I can't do it the way they like. (It's a highly coordinated process). I'm working on it but I'm not sure if we should add mop mastery to the list of pros or cons; it's a lot more important than I realized before beginning this journey of enlightenment.
I do love the people involved (even if they don't like my mopping). There are several people taking the teacher training class that I truly like or am intrigued by, and I want to be just like all of the teachers when I grow up. Not that I want to be a teacher, necessarily, I just want to be cool like them.
So, I'm going in for brainwashing starting on Friday. I'm a little bit worried that they'll wash the sarcastic away but they couldn't do that, right? I don't think they could do that.
Unless I die.