March 10, 2012

The Yoga Uniform. ~ Lisa Avebury

I sold all my Lulufruit on Ebay this week.

Some of it was almost brand new. I even threw in a bag and a headband for free. I got about 1/6th of what I paid for it. It didn’t matter. I wanted it to go to a good home, to someone who will wear it.

I used to scan my various yoga class attire before class, but never found myself particularly drawn to put on the Lulu. I did have one pair of Lulu pants I loved about five years ago. They were black and very generic looking. This was before everything was made of the weird plastic derivative fabric. I tried to replace them a while back and found they no longer carried the style. That inspired me to try a different pair. In hopes that the next ones would be even better, I also purchased a top and another pair of pants. Luckily I stopped there.

But those three pieces felt like intruders. They spent nearly all their time hanging out in my closet, waiting to be worn. Every time I noticed them I negated them.

I attended a class recently and noticed that my neighbor one mat over was outfitted head to toe in Lulu. She was perfectly adorable. Then I noticed most of the ladies, and many of the men, were in some sort of Lulu-ish looking attire. It resembled a yoga uniform. This was surprising to me as although this was not a regular class of mine, I am familiar with the teacher and he himself does not wear this kind of costume.

Roughly two years ago I had one of those epiphanies that are akin to hitting a wall at high speed.

Illustration by Vanessa Fiola for Recovering Yogi

Up to that point I was pretty much wearing a version of the yoga uniform everyday-whether I took a class or not. This was a habit for me. I wore my yoga uniform-it made me feel I was all things yoga represented to me at that moment. The trouble was, yoga no longer had that meaning in my life. This was highly disturbing. The fact that everything now felt wrong made me understand major housecleaning was required. My house was littered with junk and yoga fashion accessories.

My once beloved yoga uniform felt like a fraud. The deeper I looked, the more discrepancies became clear. When that little thing happened at their store about a year ago, the murder, I couldn’t help but wonder how a corporation working so diligently to appear pure and good could draw in such dark energy. Hence my own inventory was up for review.

What was my yoga uniform hiding anyway?

I recently dipped my toe back into the dating pool. After a dalliance that ended less than well my friend quoted,  “Man’s Rejection is God’s Protection”. I got to thinking about how our sense of what we reject, on principal or intuitively, often is protection. Many times we ignore these signs and choose to move along with the other bovines. Maybe it’s the manipulation masquerading as information we are surrounded by that keeps us blind enough to sacrifice our uniqueness.

My own individual confusion still exists but I recognize the gift in the crash.

The resulting scars are my reminder to question my own motivations anytime I sense I am losing the plot. General Grant had the right idea when he told his enemies, “No terms except unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted”. I repeat this to my ego when it starts demanding attention. Putting my Lulu on the auction block was letting it know I didn’t need its advice. I could see how little reward there was in investing time trying to be the same.

I don’t begrudge anyone else loving their Lulu. It’s just not for me.

Not to mention it gave me heinous camel toe anyway.


Editor: Tanya Lee Markul


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Lisa Avebury