Pug Hill - Alison Pace [47]
“Why doesn’t everyone give it a try?” she says encouragingly, and suddenly, I feel better than I have felt since I first set foot in this classroom. I feel a way I never imagined I would feel, not for the duration of Overcoming Presentation Anxiety at least. I feel advanced. Quite advanced, at least for this particular second, and I am for the briefest of brief moments, at peace.
See, now that I’ve seen it demonstrated, I remember that, believe it or not (well actually you should just believe it) I have actually done One Nostril Breathing. Once, in yoga class when the Asthanga-influenced and very hot (my God, is there anyone I don’t lust after?) yoga teacher was in India learning more, I assume, about Asthanga, there was a sub, a follower of what must apparently have been a more breathing-based yoga practice. The sub—who seemed to lack any understanding that seeing as we were at a gym, everyone in the class wanted their yoga to be more athletic and calorie-burning in spirit—had us do One Nostril Breathing. He called it something else though, hence my delay in recognizing it. He had us all do it for half an hour once. Then I think someone complained to the management, and he didn’t come back again. I confidently take a few alternating breaths, quite proficiently, adeptly, if I do say so myself.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Martine. Martine is clearly not someone who has spent a tremendous amount of time in yoga class; she is scowling at her thumb and index finger as she holds them a few inches away from her nostrils. Next to her, Lindsay seems to be having some struggles with coordination. I think how very possibly I am the best in the room at the One Nostril Breathing. It’s sort of sad, I know, that this makes me as happy as it does. But it does.
And then it doesn’t anymore, because Beth Anne is now saying something how Kalabati helps, too. Kalabati isn’t even written on the board. Kalabati definitely sounds like it might have something to do with yoga-breathing, too, but, as you know, the time I had with the breathing yoga teacher was brief, perhaps too brief, and I’m no longer leaps and bounds ahead of my classmates. I am no longer the star, if, come to think of it, I ever really was. Now I am just one of the many people in the room who has no idea what is going on. I’m back to thinking that around any corner there could be danger, and if not that, at the very least, despair.
“Kalabati,” Beth Anne explains to us slowly, “is also called Breath of Fire.” Amy raises her hand.
“Yes, Amy?” Beth Anne smiles at her brightly, clearly Beth Anne is a big, big fan of class participation.
“How come Kalabati, or Breath of Fire, isn’t written on the board?” Beth Anne furrows her eyebrows as Amy continues, “I mean, why just write One Nostril? If this is like a whole separate category of relaxation, then why not write it down, too?”
“Well, I would say it’s a subset,” Beth Anne says, in a way that makes me think she’s slightly thrown.
“If it’s a subset why not write it, but indent?” I wonder if Amy is going to be the one who wants, more than she wants to overcome her presentation anxiety, to ruin it for everyone else. There’s usually one in every group, the one who just likes to hear herself talk out loud. I’d been thinking though that this group would be exempt from that since the people in this group, by the very nature of their fear, might tend to not like talking out loud in a group, let alone being heard talking. I look over at Amy: regardless of any public speaking impairment she may suffer from, she does indeed look like a good candidate to be one of those people who just likes to hear herself talk. It could be an occupational hazard for her, since she’s a novelist and all. If you think about it, her job might provide her with even less of an opportunity to talk to people than mine.
Beth Anne seems to be opting for not answering Amy. Amy scowls slightly, but then snaps to attention, as we all do.
“Okay,” Beth Anne says, clapping