action
yesterday, i bluffed shot my commercial.
location: malibu. lighting: otherworldly.
makeup: concealing.
freckles, eyebrow burns & melasma begone.*
my co-stars, the koi.
sundown, hair-down. an entire can of hairspray for the "yoga instructor".
me!
it's a wrap! my end of the day bubbly.
*not my photo.
you're hired
much to my surprise, and to ganesha, the hindu yoga god of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles, i was cast as yoga instructor girl in an upcoming commercial. unfortunately, i can't get into specifics regarding the project...all very hush-hush. i'm sure this secrecy is merely a test to see if i can pull off clandestine, espionage type character work for when they next offer me the part of nikita's long, lost baby sister.
if ever a role i thought i blew {literally} it was for yoga instructor girl. coming off last week's yoga class sentiments, i wasn't exactly feeling my zen walking into the audition. but like they say, fake it till he falls asleep...or something like that.
i repeated this mantra as i crept up to l.a. in 17 mile an hour traffic, not exactly the perfect way to get into, "calm, serene, sweet, trusting" mode....as the audition ticket called for. rather i was amped, pissed, sweaty and ready to kick some fellow yogi ass.
the audition began with a quick interview of the history of my yoga practice. obviously they are not regular readers. bringing them up to snuff...and maybe a little beyond? i recapped my long and formidable background with yoga {omitting that the bulk of this time was spent at opposite sides of the ring: yoga triumphant, me tko'd with the referee calling the match and an ambulance}.
but no, i suddenly had the confidence of a tiara'd toddler, preparing the casting director for the magic he was about to witness.
i don't just practice yoga, i am yoga.
downward dog? pfft. try downward great dane mofo!
i don't just tree, i grow a house in my tree and have a fucking tea party!
and so i began:
big, giant breath in-through-the-nose.
pause...
louder-more giant-hock-a-loogie-breath-out-through-the-MOUTH(!!!!!!!)
now if you're not in to yoga, that last sentence won't mean a thing to you, but even if you've taken intro to yoga you know that even the greenest baby ever to step on a mat, breathes through the nose. my dog, priscilla, even knows how to ujjayi breathe.
but not jackass here. nope, there i was all the confidence in the county, exhaling like i was trying to bust a breathalyzer.
miraculously, they called me back. this time i left my ego in orange county and kept my mouth shut {a good way to live, no?}.
it must have worked. my agent called last night to tell me i am booked.
happy dance.
downward katie
today i have an audition for yoga-girl...or rather yoga~instructor~girl.
should be a no-brainer. i'm a girl {woman? lady? broad? gal?}
i am an instructor:....pilates, spin, barre, some yoga, very little yoga actually, but i do take yoga.
sort of.
let me explain.
yoga is my thai food. i LOVE thai food. can't get enough of it. but i have to be in the right mood for it. i have to be absolutely, stomach growling, starving for the curry, lime, lemongrass coterie of noodles pad thai'd. otherwise you're forcing a well hydrated horse to drink. same with yoga, my body {with all her bruises and special needs} likes to thirst for the deep backbends and sweeping movements of vinyasa. and lately my limbs and spine have fancied more of a pilates rehab rather than the virabhadrasana 1 ilk, nevertheless i try to make a date, once a week with my sticky mat.
one thing i DO take away from all my downward dog sessions is a deeper sense of self, a truer heart, and an expanded, more inspired mind. my talented instructors always have the ability to unearth a meaningful, more authentic piece of my soul needing to emerge. for instance, during yesterday's "practice", while our hot-bodied, raquel welch-beautiful yogi, guided the rest of class into hand stands and arm balances, my use of profanity and name calling took on a whole new ardor and ingenuity that can only stem from yoga class:
bitch-face.
ass-head.
fuck-monkey.
scab-eater.
turkey-whore.
{in through the nose, out through the nose}.
and all this anger at someone i love and adore. someone who, out of my omgirl nomad leggings, i call a dear friend, someone i'd break bread with {fresh from the oven sourdough for me, raw ezekiel spelt for her}; a give a ride to the airport kind of friend, but ask me to throw my legs up in the air....and i don't care how friggin nice or pretty you are....i'll cut you!
there's something about balancing on my arms and going upside down....i lose my head and my air. all i can feel is my left hamstring, right rotator cuff, my aunt's cancer, court on wednesday, the 750, ooo dying in somalia, my neighbor's brain tumor, my friends' turmoil over their son, another aunt's broken heart, my father. i need an oxygen tank to breathe.
the flow flies away, the fear soars in.
child's pose.
if yesterday's class told me anything it's that i'm in dire need of my yoga. my brain is a bounce house of fret and un-focus, my body is broken down and walloped.
i'm return to the mat a true humble warrior.
drummer down
as i type this i have an ice pack in pretty much every nook & cranny of my person.
tuesday i got pound™-ed, and hard.
a new fitness class, using just 1lb drum sticks {ripstix™} and your own body weight, pound™ is a total body workout, designed to "put the fun back into fitness."
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/23228621 w=640 h=400]
the music, loud and heart-thumping, kicks you into a doable choreographed routine of banging floors, rapping ripstix™, shaking your bum, and oh yes.....lunging, squatting, bridging, twisting, and jumping {hello hamstrings!!!}.
created by drummers and fitness aficionados, kirsten potenza and cristina peerenboom, pound™ is a high energy, kick-ass class where you truly unleash your inner rock star. give the girl a set a sticks and our typically, yogic, bambi-eyed instructor, angela leigh, morphed into a rockin', groovin' gwen stefani looking for bambi's mother!
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/16084054 w=640 h=400]
i'm not lying. ten minutes into class, i was sheila-effing-E, glamorous life'ing all OVER that gym floor.
mmm. hmm. snap, SNAP bitches.
although today i feel more like sheila e's crippled grandmother. i'm not very big on the cross-training. spin, yoga, pilates, coreplay™, a little run here and there....those are my go-to's. pound™ definitely taught me i need to branch out of my exercise bucket.
pound™ is offered at the west hollywood equinox and starting this month will debut at the newport beach equinox.
the class will soon spread throughout the country.
keep updated on their happenings here.
thursday happy m'loves.
a revision
yesterday, amidst all the chocolate hearts and pink carnations i found myself in a familiar place: conflicted.
a pickle of sorts.
spout, spout, spout i spat my distaste for all things valentine and hallmark.
but contrary is not a color i wear well. completely washes me out actually.
yet mid savasana {thank you raquel perry} a shift occurred in my heart and brain.
loosening up the laces on my grinch boots, i slowly started to shovel out my deep rooted heels.
and for the rest of the day i decided to send out valentines {silent, energetic, fairytale-princess-like} to the people i don't love.
wordlessly, i hurled arrows of happy toward those who are hurtful, dishonorable, and vicious.
people who have affected me personally, and people who haven't.
luckily it wasn't a long list.
what is extensive is the continued peace i feel in my heart.
so i revise my stance on valentine's day.
while my knee jerk is still to think of those without,
i can still privately honor the holiday within.
wishing you a tuesday beautiful m'loves.
resolution number 2: as the crow flies
i've restarted yoga after a five year hiatus.
the bliss of shutting down, of lamp-shading the outside world, and sitting in my stillness is back.
but. so. is. the. fear.
i can coddle and herd my hamstrings to new lengths.
my shoulders juice out tension held from college finals passed.
yet, ask me to balance my knees on my triceps,
and i'd sooner drink a toe-nail milkshake {not my own}.
gross. yes. but that's how i feel about crow pose.
now, i know there are yogis who will read this and try to help with tips and encouragement.
SAVE YOUR BREATH!!
i know this is an easy pose.
i have eyes.
i see ALL of you, knees up in your armpits, acting as if you had just eaten a piece of cake.
pffft.
this is my own fear of falling on my face {literally and metaphorically}.
but it is my resolution to master this muthafucka by next year!!!!