I decided yesterday to make an attempt at the yoga selfie. Shona Williams, the yogi in charge of media for the Feel Good Fernie Yoga Festival, has been asking me for some non-winter yoga photos to use as marketing material, and I decided to try out taking a photo myself instead of waiting for my upcoming photo shoot to send her some options. I used my regular camera, propped up on a box, because I have no clue how to wangle one of those bad boys using my iphone. The sun was shining bright and hot. I selected a lovely patch of light in front of a towering blue spruce tree in the front yard. It was a beautiful spot, radiating the image of peaceful outdoor serenity that any yogi would be glad to practice in, and what ensued there was fifteen minutes of pure chaos unlike any other yoga experience I've ever had.
After a botched attempt (or two) at setting auto-click, I rushed through the mine-field of dog poo toward the selected photo area, only to realize that my slippers were still on my feet. Kicking them off in a flurry I quickly became aware that, in my selfie induced excitement, I had failed to give even one thought to the pose I was going to strike for my photo. I immediately lunged forward ready to assume crow pose. My palms may or may not have landed in dried dog poo, only the universe knows. As the beeping indicating that the photo was about to happen reached its final toll, I flew up into crow with little to no mindfulness, awareness or serenity. Click, click. "Two clicks? Seriously?" I thought.
Jumping up I leapt with what I hope was cat like grace through the dog poo toward the camera. If I was going to look like a lunatic in tie die pants taking pictures of herself I at least wanted to look graceful while I was at it. By this point both the dogs and the two year old were at the screen door begging to join in the fun. "Just another minute bubs," I scrambled toward the camera. "Mommy's doing something impor... er, doing something." A frantic moment of fiddling with buttons revealed the option to up the setting to ten clicks. For sure I could do something truly awesome with ten clicks! I hit the button and raced back toward the patch of sun. "Please don't let me step in dog poo" my mantra for the practice.
Arriving in front of the tree, I again realized that with all the poo dodging and technological concerns I had failed to give any consideration what-so-ever to selecting a pose. "Titibasana! Titibasana looks impressive," I thought. I folded forward to begin. It was then that I noticed the aforementioned dried dog poo. As the final warning sounded from the camera, I set my hands down so as to avoid it. With the cacophony of thoughts swirling through my mind from selecting a pose, to avoiding the poo, to rushing while trying to beat the countdown of the camera, I completely forgot how to get into titibasana - or so it would seem, since I placed my hands slightly in front of my feet, rather than behind them, and landed firmly on my bottom. I'm still contemplating today how my brain didn't manage to log out of auto-pilot, even with the distinct thought of "that's not where my hands go" entering it. Anyway, with my ass pressing into God-knows-what, my mantra quickly shifted to "please don't let me be sitting in poo." I sprung up and the last eight clicks of that selfie attempt caught the majestic beauty of my hop scotch ballet through the piles of poo.
One more try for titibasana found me again on my bottom. This time I capitalized and caught a shot of myself balancing while holding my feet. Never one to give up, I continued on with two attempts at side crow where the experience greatly resembled the description immortalized in the blogosphere above. Exhausted, I rushed back into the house, where the screen door was now empty and silence had eerily fallen (every mama out there knows a silent two year old is trouble). Safely inside, blissfully removed from the dog poo mine field, beeping of the camera, and frantic asana attempts, I examined the selfies with mixed emotions. I'm not sure that the slippers in the forefront captured quite the effect I had hoped for...