It is Monday, and coming back from the Pilates this morning you ran into your old frenemy, Jenny, who described for you at great and exhausting length her new workout regime: the form of acrobatic “hot” yoga, which involves contorting oneself into the variety of unlikely positions, in the room heated to 120 humid degrees, while the small Indian man shouts quasi-religious non sequiturs at you.
“Inward, you will take your awareness now…”
Frankly, you would probably be more interested in yoga (Jenny does look great) except as the Roman Catholic you already have the mystical religion, thank you very much, and are not in need of the second more exotic one.
And then, on your way back to the office, it hits you: Catholic Yoga!
You will open the yoga salon which encourages its student to contemplate the suffering of the martyrs while assuming the attitudes of their deaths!
‘This position is known as St. Catherine on the Wheel,” you say as you splay your arms and legs into the unnatural pose, “take the awareness of Catherine’s suffering inward, hear her cries of agony, revel in God’s grace.”
To be followed by the St. Lawrence on the Griddle, in which you exhort the students to “feel the burn,” as you turn the room heat up to it’s highest setting.
And you are so excited by this new venture, which is certain to you make you as rich and as famous as any Indian ascetic, that you immediately begin planning your new wardrobe which will certainly include these ankle boots…