There are a few stumbling blocks to attempting yoga here at the Lodge. The candles are lit, the New Age music hums in the background. All is serene except a handful of small, yappy dogs. Small, yappy dogs that are convinced I have come up with a new game for them. They tug at the yoga mat, prop themselves against my Lotus-twisted thighs and collapse belly up two inches away from my ground-level nose.
My favorite pose, Downward Facing Dog, perfectly mimics our friends’ paws-down, butt-up gesture that signals play! I do not want to play, I tell the guests. I want to do twenty minutes of something I really don’t want to do. Yoga is slow, methodical and focused, everything I am not. It keeps company with all the other things I don’t want to do; teeth cleaning and colonoscopies, to name a few.
The guests ignore me when I explain this, too busy chasing each other around and under my Bridge pose. Half the time, the guests win out. I give up, laughing and rolling around with them. This is what I call Doga, an exercise regimen that builds the heart and happiness muscles. I like it way better than all the Warrior poses in the world.