We arrived at our yoga studio tonight to find the door locked and a ‘Class Cancelled’ sign on the door. So we did what any serious, self-respecting yoga students would do in the circumstances. We high-tailed it to Dairy Queen.
I know what you’re thinking. Indulgence in ice cream is not in keeping with the yogic way of life. It’s a swan dive off the eightfold path into the depths of high-fat dairy and sugar. And you would be right. Add to that: whipped cream, hunks of fudge and tasty bits of graham cracker. I concede the point.
But if we set aside the nutritional angle, there was a definite element of yogic bliss in our side-trip.
Just hear me out.
Yoga focuses not only on the suppleness of the body, but also on flexibility of mind and spirit. Its philosophy encourages us to be open to the world of possibility offered in the present moment. The ability to detach from a set plan and go with the flow is admirable then, is it not? Even if that flow happens to stream from the hot fudge tap at the local ice cream shop?
And in our indulgence, we exercised many other yogic qualities. We held the door open for our fellow Dairy Queen customers and thanked the server who waited on us. We offered small bills. We exercised moderation by ordering mini-sized portions. I ordered a flavour that I had never tried before, and as a woman with a serious attachment to chocolate, I can tell you this isn’t easy. It requires discipline and restraint. But I persevered and instead of ordering the dependable Midnight Truffle, I reached out for French Silk Pie and was pleasantly surprised by its creamy smoothness. I was shaken by a sort of kundalini bliss, a blaze of blue light as a new neural pathway burned its way through my chocolate-addled brain, and my mind opened to the possibilities of working my way through the whole 16 flavour Blizzard Menu: Banana Cream Pie. Strawberry. Mint Oreo. Plus this month’s bonus flavour: Ooey, Gooey Caramel Brownie. Yum. Believe me, this would take discipline and commitment, especially since mint chocolate ice cream ranks pretty low on my list of favourite flavours.
And to top it all off, we indulged ourselves in a healthy fit of laughing yoga on the drive home, as the girls, in high spirits, broke into an impromptu car dancing session with such vigour that it literally rocked the van. They started to laugh, and I started to laugh at their laughing, and so the hilarity built on itself to to such a crescendo that I had to pull over for fear of guffawing my way into oncoming traffic (and is it just me, or do you not find that if there is food or drink in your mouth, the least humourous thing will become exponentially funnier? The oral tension required to restrain yourself from spitting melted ice cream all over your neighbour just makes you laugh all the harder, like a shaken pop can just waiting to explode?)
So, no. We didn’t make it to yoga class today, but I daresay, with happiness in our hearts, and tummies full of ice cream, we did achieve a certain bliss.ter