I’m going to invent a new type of discipline. Going to call it Wolf-Yoga – or something else as equally narcissistic. It won’t be anything like the usual types of yoga (not that I’m all that aware of the various types of yoga). It won’t be a stretching-get-in-touch-with-your-pancreas type of exercise. Its main source of Chi-enrichment will be Chardonnay. On Saturday night. With a good book.
Wolf-Yoga will demand self-accountability. Having problems eating too much?
The mantra you will repeat to yourself just once, consists of one word only.
You’ll have to say the word out loud. Once. And then sit and let it resonate. Let it echo in your head. Think about it. Ruminate. Consider.
And then, once you’re completely bored, get up off of your ass and go do something.
TV doesn’t qualify as “do something”. It qualifies as fat-enhancement.
Wolf-Yoga will require a daily disciplined exercise, involving the lips of your face and of your soul. (Lips of your soul. I like that. It’s deep. I’m so damned impressed with myself right now. Everyone should be.)
If you listen closely to what your inner self is saying – and quite often it comes out of your outer self too – you’ll hear complaints. “Damn, I’m tired. Geeze, it’s cold out. Oh my dear sweet Lord do I ever hate my fucking job”)
When you realize you’re saying this, close your lips (soul and face) immediately.
If you’re a girl, wag a virtual finger in your virtual face as a means of self-shame. Tell yourself “don’t do this, girlfriend. You’re better than your complaints.”
If you’re a guy, lift your left foot up, and then stomp it down hard on your right. Then say “man up, dude. Let both testicles drop. Stop being such a little girl.”
Wolf-Yoga has no tolerance for complaints.
It does, however encourage change. Wolf-Yoga understands that change quite often is invigorating, and it cleanses the soul, or Chi or whatever. Anyway it’s good, sometimes.
You’re fat? Wolf-Yoga demands that you don’t blame your sedentary job, or the proximity of your favourite café that features those brownies that you just can’t resist. Wolf-Yoga says that your fat (or bad job, or bad relationship, or gnawing loneliness) is a treatable condition. So treat it.
You don’t like your job, and you’ve been stomping on your foot all day and you’re still talking to yourself about it? Find a way to change it. You only live once, so why spend so much time doing something you hate? Are you being a martyr? Is that it? In Wolf-Yoga there are no martyrs. Only potential candidates for satisfied lives. most of whom are still sleep secure in the fake safety of their procrastination, which they mistake for self-compliance – a willingness to “settle” for the status quo. How often have our friends told us not to “settle” for Mr. and Mrs. Right Now? If it’s true for our prospective mates, how much more true is it for us?
Wolf-Yoga does not tolerate self-martyrdom, nor does it put up with false selflessness. You’re staying at your job, or in the relationship you hate, because you don’t want to put anyone out? What the hell are you? The quintessential Canadian or something? Get cool with being selfish. It’s how you survive.
Oh yeah – and Wolf-Yoga really doesn’t like preachers, and takes a dim view of the writer of this blog, who seems to have set himself up as one. Wolf-Yoga prefers the doing to the talking.
Wolf-Yoga seems to resemble my crotchety old grandmother, actually.