Yoga is supposed to make you feel good. It is supposed to clear out tension blockades, release energy to flow like fresh mountain spring water and open up, relax and harmonize the body. It is true that the practice of yoga can accomplish corporeal and spiritual magic, but if the yogis around me have their feet twice wrapped around their heads while I struggle to bend over, angst becomes the order of my day.

Yoga is not supposed to be a competitive sport (though I have heard of yoga competitions).  If only taking off my westernized, capitalistic view point was as easy as taking off my shoes and socks at the studio door. I bring my perspective with me and it causes me to suffer and because they keep reminding you to be in the present moment, I am much more aware of this suffering then I would usually be. From my vantage, most of the people in my yoga classes are “better” then me. They are more flexible and more balanced. They can do the poses as shown without the support of the three bricks, two blankets, a strap and a crane. I know that I should love and honor my body where it is at, but it is difficult when it appears that the bodies around me are in better places. Sometimes the flexy bodied people make inane comments and then I feel a bit better. “They may be more flexible, but they are a bit idiotic.” It is a small and dark comfort.

I see them in headstands, their bodies taut and balanced, their shoulders limber and strong and I try not to hate them. I resist the childish urge to knock them over like a stack of blocks. I try to distract myself with sexy thoughts of the instructor, something I am an experienced expert at. Sadly even that leads to pain as I realize that a yoga instructor would want to have superhuman, inverted, levitating yoga sex. I probably wouldn’t be up for it and who wants all those yoga blocks in bed anyway?

And then, when I have myself worked up into a respectable tizzy I remember who I should really be comparing myself to; my neurotic family. They are charming folk, all of them, and they can’t help it if they make more money then me, drive nicer cars, vote Republican and only recycle if a hippy stars knowing on their legs. All of them, with the exception of my 2-year old nephew, are stiffer then me. They have superbly tight and knotty hips and hamstrings and practically have to UPS their socks to their feet in the morning. They have more energy blockages then the 405 Freeway at 7:30. My father who has taken up yoga in his 60’s cannot sit in simple cross legged pose without several assistive devices.

When you are dating someone you can look at their parents to see what you might be waking up to in 25 years. In this way I look at the members of my family, particularly the older ones, to see the conditions and maladies that I want desperately to avoid. I’d like to avoid osteoporosis, limited movement, pain and the inability to have a conversation without quoting conservative talk radio. I try to keep my eye (both inner and outer) on this prize as I twist and strain and attempt to transform my body into a flexible, harmonious playground.

I know, I know, I’m not supposed to compare myself to other people, even my own family, but I consider this a stepping stone on the long path to enlightenment. I often dedicate my practice to my older self. The self that I hope will be more enlightened, agile, and active for a very long time to come.

It seems an inevitable law of romantic relationships that one partner will take longer to get ready then the other. Throughout the ages people have dealt with this situation in various ways including: standing by the door and getting pissed off, sitting in an idling car and getting pissed off, doing other chores around the house to stay busy while secretly being pissed off, or direct badgering of the slower partner; which usually serves to piss everybody off.  I have tried all of these methods with varying degrees of failure and much dissatisfaction. This weekend I hit on a far superior of dealing with this type of situation.

Stretch while you wait. 

This is the perfect solution because it is no coincidence that the faster, prompter (and dare I say superior) partner usually happens to be the tenser partner; both muscularly and in many other ways as well.  I can always use more stretching and I often have a hard time fitting it into my workout schedule. Stretching is a perfect activity to drop into any otherwise unproductive period of time, but its best done in a situation where you don’t mind bending over and sticking your rump in the air (not the line at the bank).

Implement this method and you will get more flexible as your partner gets prettier, everybody will be happy and you will never have to start another night on the town or day at the office with irritation and tight hamstrings.

As we grow older it becomes painfully obvious that many of the foodstuffs we enjoyed as children were nutritional atrocities. I personally feasted on Craft Mac n’ cheese, silver-foil wrapped Ding Dongs, Cheetos, Rice Crispy treats, Frosted Flakes and many other things composed mostly of high fructose corn syrup and air. Looking back I should be three feet tall with rickets and a skin condition.

Thankfully, there are now some more healthful versions of those delicious, anti-nutritious childhood snacks.

I made brown rice crispy treats for my fitness bootcampers recently and they loved them. The crew gobbled them up immediately after a grueling hill workout and I felt pleased to be sending them home to their spouses and children with a decent blood sugar level for once. This version forgoes traditional Rice Crispies for puffed brown rice cereal, eliminating a bucketful of sugar and adding some fiber. The dubious yet heroically sticky marshmallows, which are used to hold it all together in the original recipe, are replaced here with peanut butter and brown rice syrup. The peanut butter is a welcome addition bringing some protein and a touch of savoriness to the mix. With or without the optional chocolate chips these are not as overbearingly sweet as the original version. Kids will still love them and adults will too.

These are ridiculously easy to make and would probably last quite a while in the fridge, but I can almost guarantee you that they won’t. If you live with hungry types I recommend at least doubling the recipe. Keep them cool and they will hold together better, but don’t be afraid to wrap them up and take them on the road. Try them with a tall glass of cold, organic milk and the only snap, crackle and pop you hear will be coming from your mouth, not your bones.

Follow the link below for a tempting photo and an easy to follow recipe:

http://www.danispies.com/archives/dessert/brown_rice_crispy_treats.php