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In one of my yoga classes there's a woman who makes, shall we say, pleasure noises with each posture.

No, not little mms or the usual exhales. We're talking "I'll have what she's having" noises. Deep moans, low sighs, ecstatic aaahhhs. It's a little amusing, but most mornings it's really annoying--I'm so glad for her yummy experience, and so don't want to hear it at 7am unless it's me and Rodney Yee on a mat far, far away.

But other than use this as a regular opportunity to be present despite external circumstances that stir up aversion, what's a yogi to do?

Well, the Yoga Dork blog amusingly addresses this exact issue and more in a new weekly "Yogacist" column that's loads of useful fun. For this one they suggest keeping your distance or telling the teacher--not bad suggestions but one more reason I'm grateful not to be a yoga instructor! "Uh, Meg, could you stick to the Darth Vader breathing? Namaste!" 

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The other day in yoga, I was being kind of a spaz. I was lost in my head and positioned oddly on my mat.  When the teacher called for Ardha Chandrasana, a pose you do with one foot and one arm on the ground and one foot and one arm in the air, I had to hop backward a few steps so as not to fall into the person in front of me. But ended up hopping so far back that I accidentally kicked the hand of the woman behind me. I turned around, apologized and hopped forward, but not far enough. When I went back up, I grazed her fingers with my foot. "Eep! So sorry," I whispered, knowing how incredibly jarring it is to get kicked around in yoga--a not-uncommon occurence in packed New York City yoga classes.

A minute later, our teacher, whom I'll call Lila, came over to me and hissed, "Stay at the front of your mat!" I weakly protested that it was an accident. "And look, your foot!" she added unpleasantly, pointing to my angled toes as if they were rotting meat at a veggie feast.

I silently fumed as we moved through the next poses, feeling ashamed and blamed and hurt and angry, a not-unfamilar stew of feelings. I poutily imagined rolling up my mat and leaving. Tears started to stream down my sweaty face while thoughts sucked me into a pissed self-pity--"Why am I so sensitive? Why is she such a bitch? Why do I keep coming back? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with the world?" Then a clear, calm, all-caps voice came into my head: "USE THIS." So I took a breath and noticed my thought swirl. And breathed again. And decided to finish this practice. For me. Ok, and to show her I could hack it. But mostly for me. It felt good to keep moving through intense emotions, chaturanga-ing through judgement of myself and of her. If I could keep my center and my breath in something as not-high-stakes as this, it would be good training for the real stuff.

But I still rippled with annoyance in savasana when Lila said "Sometimes this heart-opening practice brings up feelings, anxieties, just let them go." Arg, she had to mean me, right?  Another opportunity to breathe. As soon as we rose, I apologized wildly to my kickee, who seemed to have almost forgotten, waving my sorries away with a sweaty hand.

 As I tucked my props back in their cubby, I overheard Lila say to someone, "Yep, I'm working like a slave" and sigh in a decidedly unhappy way. So clearly, it wasn't just me. I considered: I've been going to this class for over a year--this was the first time I'd kicked anyone, and not the first time Lila had vented ("the bolster goes like this!" she yapped the other day). And yet, it's hard to find classes that fit my schedule. And I do, overall, like how I feel after, despite the not  terribly loving vibe. Have I just been jaded by my old Bikram practice where the teachers often wear their harshness like a badge? Or is it New York, where, frankly I have had some excellent teachers but very few I would call remotely warm or fuzzy? I've almost completely forgotten what a gentle, loving practice is like, having practiced 10 of my 16 years as a yogi here.  (This 2001 NYT article, "Attack of the Killer Yogis" pretty well nailed much of the scene.) 

Later I posted a slightly martyred Facebook version of the story--"Valerie Reiss is wondering if she should go back to class with the yoga teacher who yelled at her and made her cry. Again." A flood of responses mostly said NO, no, and, NO. But an art-teacher friend suggested maybe bringing her flowers--saying she was probably having a lousy day. Another asked if the room felt positive or negative to me. A devoted yogi wrote: "I think the lesson here involves tuning into your own spirit and deciding based on that. Also, finding out what needs of yours that teacher is meeting that makes you consider going back. There are so many very good Yoga Teachers in NYC. I have tolerated emotional disturbance from Yogis before but I always had a very clear goal in mind... And then later at some point, I realized God could find another way for me to learn that didn't feel so abusive to my spirit. I am all for a good challenge though!"

All good points! I decided to go back, but I've also decided if it happens again I will, after class, have a chat. And then see. Ah, to be a grownup. Or a doormat? Or a martyr? Or a true yogi? Unclear. But I did sweat like hell in class today and I feel pretty clear, balanced, and good. Om.

Ever have your own teacher-clashing? 

Oh, this so made me laugh. Made by author, blogger, and yoga teacher David Romanelli, author of "Yeah Dave's Guide to Livin' the Moment."

I'm on a gentle little yoga things kick. One small pose done before breakfast can change your whole day. These two are very simple, gentle poses that almost anyone can do. They're usually called Cat and Cow. But at Hollyhock, my sweet teacher Eleanor called them Smiles and Rainbows, which no matter how anti-cute you are, brings in a little bit of sunshine, I think.

Try This: Lay down some padding, get on all fours, knees and palms, like you'd be if you were playing horsey with a little kid. For Smile (Cow), exhale, then inhale while slowly arching your back like a low-slung cow, looking toward the ceiling, without crinking your neck--keep a soft arch in it. Now exhale into Rainbow (Cat), pulling your sacrum and middle back toward the ceiling and casting your gaze downward toward the floor. Alternate between the two now, moving with your breath. Inhaling into Smile/Cow, Exhaling into Rainbow/Cat. Keep the visual in mind that you are creating smiles and rainbows with each one and let yourself fill with that sparkly energy.

For photos and more detailed instructions:

Cow/Smile: http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/2467

Cat/Rainbow: http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/2468

Video of both: http://community.yogajournal.com/_Cat-Cow-Pose/VIDEO/288335/25925.html?widgetId=7989