The end of yoga
By Davin Sauer
I’ve read a lot of articles in various yoga/spiritual magazines that end with phrases like, “suddenly I realized” or, “and then I just knew.” If you are meeting me here, you’ve probably read them too, with their tied-up realizations—all in 500 words.
I get that it’s probably necessary. Any grade school writing teacher will tell you there has to be a beginning, middle….and end. I’ve been trying to rectify writing this end with what is actually true, because for me the typical endings, the wrapped-up superlative statements where I figure something out, feel like a lie.
The beginning is usually cake.
Look up, there it is. So here’s some of the middle, and the reasons why “The End” has become problematic. I’m a yoga teacher who loses her shit weekly—a seemingly sweet Pisces with an angry, aggressive Aries moon. By my estimation it’s one of the worst astrological combos out there. In my younger days I was thrown out of bars for fights fueled by jealousy; these days I continue to blow up boyfriends’ phones and throw things. I’m excellent with swear words, insults, and vulgarity. If I wasn’t so mean, I’d feel proud of my insulting genius. However my nastiness does make me cringe, and I still aspire to become a bit more chill.
So, I teach these college kids yoga, and my penchant for finding anything but peace makes me question if I’m in any position to be molding young minds. In my class, I’ve eliminated chanting, gurus, and ohms. Oh, there’s the occasional mentioning of those things, but sometimes I can’t do it with a straight face, and sometimes I just want class to end so I can get my drink on (probably with some boyfriend I’ll later throw things at). I feel like a fraud when a very serious student with mala beads up to their elbow and a light, spiritual voice approaches me with a question or tale about their meditation experience. Because the truth is I am usually bored by this, don’t care, or simply don’t believe you.
The more practical students will come to me with inquiries about their particular malady or injury asking for a cure.
I am honest about what I don’t know, but what I really want to say is, I don’t F-ing know. I’m not your doctor/chiropractor/PT/personal healer. I know the poses and something about what they do. I can tell you how to safely get in and out of them. I can show you how to modify them to fit your needs. I know a little Sanskrit, and a little more about the history/philosophy of yoga. I’ve read a lot of books about meditation. I do more meditating than asana practice. Am I really required to give you anything more than this?
Although I sound like the Grinch who stole yoga, I do believe in this BS. And of course there is always the hope. I hope to find some peace. I hope to stay in touch with my softer side long enough to stifle the f-word confetti spilling out of my mouth, aimed at your self-worth. I aspire to be quiet. Or maybe to just not break your shit.
So, unfortunately I think this brings me to the end. Ah, the end. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. No realization—or maybe the realization that there rarely is one. I mean isn’t this really how it is? Trust me, I think it is.
About Davin Sauer
Davin Sauer is a Pisces, yoga teacher, and physical therapy assistant who is always looking for a way out of the rat race. She has had about a million jobs and even more boyfriends. As hippy-dippy as she sounds, she can still conform like the best of em’, carrying her Coach purse (her mom bought it) and shopping at American Eagle. Davin thinks the Buddhists got it right, and if she could be more consistent with her meditation practice, she might find some answers. Currently, she has no answers, and has begun to write out of sheer boredom and loneliness.