Yoga is Practical – Breaking Out The Habit

It's not nearly as easy as it looks to break this pose....

This past Monday a Nazi filled in for my yoga instructor. By the end of the class I’d lost count of the number of vinyasas, we’d completed. Our normal five counts morphed to thirty-five counts and I felt a little wobbly about my arms and legs. I expected some tightness the following morning. Luckily this didn’t happen.

Over the past few weeks I’d been struggling with navasana, the boat pose. Boat pose is a challenging asana that improves determination and stamina, as well as helping to strengthen the back and abdominal muscles. Navasana can also help to counter stress and boost digestion or so the yoga freaks say. In Monday’s class I was finally able to hold the pose for a count of five. It felt amazing. To switch it up a notch my instructor asked us to hold the pose for a count of five, release, then hold the pose for another count of five and repeat. Really? Surprisingly after the first release I didn’t expect to get back into the posture again and hold it, but I did. Properly rolling out of this pose is as tricky as getting into it. And once you’re in it you feel pressure to maintain it sort of like a habit. Habits, good or bad, are hard to break.

I don’t remember where I read that after you do something three times in a row it becomes a habit. After you do it for several weeks it becomes a part of your normal behavior. If we follow this same logic, after years this thing grows to be part of who you are…or does it? Over the past few years I’ve been involved in what I call an arrangement masquerading as a relationship. While it served a very interesting purpose it also solidified my growing habit of dating non-black men. Maybe my vajayjay is scared of all black everything, me no know. It’s become quite the growing trend amongst my close friends * cough * Model Friend * cough *. Are we racist against our own folk? Are we not about that black struggle? Inquiring minds would like to know.

It didn’t dawn on me until recently when someone asked, with a malignant side eye I might add, whether I liked black men. I thought this was an arse backwards question seeing as I’m a black woman. Isn’t that a given? I woke up this morning and I put on a bra, duh! Of course I like black men. I just haven’t seriously dated or been in a relationship with one in awhile. More like over 6 years but whose counting? What does that have to do with the cost of bologna in Kentucky? Not a dayyum thing, so walk it out!

I’m an equal opportunity dater. I date who strikes my fancy. Maybe I’m going through a phase like a semester lesbian. You know the type. She licked it up with another chick, during undergrad, tossed the pictures in a box of memories and says remember in 1999 when I was a gay. No sweetie you’re still gay just in hiatus mmmkay! In my case it would be more like remember 2005-2011 when I tasted the other white meat.

Don’t get me wrong I ❤ black men. From my scales of attraction you know I know the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice, the darker the flesh is the deeper the roots. Somehow this fails to translate into my dating practices. Am I lying to myself? It’s not intentional. I don’t go out of my way to pick up stray Mexicans on the highway to play in my garden…oh wait what are we talking about again? Seriously I can only bed what’s in front of me. Maybe I need to hang out with more of my people. It’s about to be barbeque season so that shouldn’t be too difficult.

When I closed my eyes as a child at night I envisioned a proud black family. While the fantasies of children are rarely the realities of adults there’s something to be said for the Huxtables and wanting to be the Claire to his Cliff. Over the last few years I’ve missed the unspoken connection I have with my bruhs. iStruggle trying to suppress the itch while dating others. Not that my fairer suitors were sub par in any way they just lacked that thing. It’s not something I can put a finger on or spell out intelligently for you to understand. It’s that thing.

Black men cast spells, of this I’m sure. I don’t know the voodoo that they do so well. Plenty of non-black guys are cool. Sexy even but please, please, please don’t confuse being cool or sexy with the bish slaying, panty dropping combination of cocky and chill! Some might call it swag, these men don’t wear skinny jeans because their knots don’t fit. Swagger seeps out their pores. Before you know it you’re laughing trying to figure out where your bra is and why you don’t have any panties on? Oh don’t lie, it’s happened to you.

For all the swagger oozing though it hasn’t always translated into an ongoing relationship for me. And while I appreciate not having to explain my obsession with lotion nor the definition of smell goods I’m intrigued by difference. Opposites attract and shit. In truth I’ve always been smitten by different cultures. One might consider my last few years’ socio-cultural research. I’m finished my forage and I’m ready to come home…I think. Much like properly rolling out of a navasana breaking a habit can be hard work.

My excursion down interracial dating lane has led me to one universal truth though. Color is pretty packaging that means absolutely nothing because all men are fundamentally the same! Strip away all the cultural hashish and you’re left with someone who doesn’t wake up and piss excellence but very much subscribes to the 3 f’s.

Thank you kindly management!

What says you, how do you feel about interracial dating? Do you subscribe to the if he can’t use your comb don’t bring him home line of thinking? No one uses my comb I’m selfish like that. Are you a conspiracy theorist who thinks that white chicks like Kim K. are stealing all the eligible black men? Do you give side eye to interracial couples? Is this even an issue today?

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Comments
5 Responses to “Yoga is Practical – Breaking Out The Habit”
  1. Interracial dating is okay. I don’t have a problem at all with it. I actually like to see a mixed couple together. It’s one of the few times I think there’s hope for one love.

    • Faith M. says:

      Mr. Chap it’s just ok…it’s not like super or awesome or some combination of wonderful that I’ve never even heard of before. LOL, I’m just joshing you. Who ever knew you were a budding romantic…there’s hope for love…when you said that an angel got his wings. Of this I’m sure!

  2. cardiogirl says:

    Okay, here’s the sequence of how my brain responded to this post.

    1. Huh, I never considered how you’d get out of that pose in the picture. Thinks about it, imagines them continuing to hold hands while trying to untangle the legs. Realizes they’d have to let go of the hands first.

    2. Wonders what the boat post looks like. Googles it, sees the pictures, watches a video and goes into the living room to give it a try. Almost rolls onto her back like a turtle on its shell. Stops, hugs legs and extends spine. Tries it again with fingers on ground for balance, then extends arms. Holds for about 1.5 seconds, hugs legs again.

    3. Laughs at this phrase: “Not a dayyum thing, so walk it out!” Decide I’ll use “so walk it out” with my kids.

    4. Laughs again at: “If he can’t use your comb don’t bring him home.” Never heard that one. My saying, when dating, was “Taller than me, college degree.” That’s what I was looking for.

    Hmm, I guess I don’t notice interractial couples that much which either means I don’t see many couples in this town or it’s become the norm.

    If you spend enough time with a person, what’s inside will emerge and overtake what’s outside.

    Mr. C is half Mexican and half Appalacian (his words to describe the fact that his dad’s a white hillbilly from Kentucky; please don’t hold that against him.) Most people assume he’s Italian if that gives you a visual. My dad is super racist — he likes to compare himself to Archie Bunker — and he didn’t know about Mr. C’s roots until some time after we were engaged.

    Anyway, Mr. C’s ethnicity doesn’t register to me; he’s the guy who gets me and who makes me laugh. But when my dad found out he actually said something like, “Huh, he’s pretty nice for a Mexican.”

    My father is a jackass.

    • cardiogirl says:

      Damn, I didn’t mean to write a novel. Sorry about that, Faith.

      • Faith M. says:

        Hey CG,

        I ❤ your novel and I even happier that you tried the boat pose. Yoga has become my jewel in these last few stressful months. It truly is practical for my life and has given me so much perspective…I will stop preaching now.

        Believe it or not "Walk it Out" is a dance and has a corresponding song. I wouldn't youtube it with the children around, it's a bit scandalous. I personally think of the slogan as a way to tell people to cool out.

        Your dating slogan is more practical for my life. Judging by my past love interests I'm clearly not following the comb philosophy. And really it's not a good slogan anyway because then all the cute bald guys would be off the table too, LOL! I'm partial to hair though.

        Interracial couples are so common place where I live that they don't even register to me. Unless they look uncomfortable together, which is sometimes the case. I always notice folks who have the deer in the headlights look on their faces.

        I would never hold Mr. C's Appalachian roots against him. Actually it kind of intrigues me and reminds me of an article I read about a tri-racial group of folks who live in that Kentucky, Tennessee area called the Melungeons. Here's the wiki link if you're interested http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melungeon.

        After reading your comment I'll be changing my online dating profile from looking for Mr. Right to looking for the man who gets me and makes me laugh, I digs it! LOL

        Side note if it's any consolation my dad's a butt munch as well! Probably not but know that you're a rock star in my eye despite your pappy.

        And now I've written a novel….

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