FAW

I took my second Ashtanga Easy class today. Two mats down from me sat a young, lithe, attractive woman. I noticed her because she seemed so cool and collected, and managed to make twin braids look uber-sexy. I'd never seen her before. But now I know that her name is Formidable Ashtanga Woman.

The instructor asked, "Is anybody taking this class for the first time?" A few of us raised our hands, including FAW. I said that this was my second class. FAW said, "I've been gone for a long time, and am just getting back to Ashtanga. I've been doing a lot of traveling with my child." The instructor and she exchanged, "oh, it's so hard to get back" comments. We all nodded in sympathy.

Then the class began. And I am not kidding when I say that FAW was poetry in motion. "Getting back" my eye. She didn't need this class, with the sweaty, grunting, huffing plebians surrounding her. She needed to be on stage, with one solo spotlight, where we could all marvel at her grace, strength and poses while we all murmured below in wonder and delight.

I'd hate to see what her idea of "back" in Yoga would be. I imagine it to be something like this:

- she swoops in, flying like a crane
- rolls over and folds herself economically into a little box
- pops out gracefully, looking happy and refreshed

Can't wait to see it. I'll be right behind her, huffing and puffing until I, too, can be called a FAW.