Page 29 of The Yes Factor

“Alex…such a pure soul.” The woman sighs. “What’s your name?”

“Summer,” Bex says.

“Her name’s Summer Moon Lotus,” I step in and say somewhat loudly. There’s no way I’m letting Bex out of this one. “And I’m her spiritual sister, Kitty Aura.” I stifle a laugh and try to keep my face as deadpan as possible.

“Okay, here you go, Summer Moon. What a beautiful name. Who gifted it to you? I’m waiting for Guru Stan to gift me with a name. Until then, I’m Jennifer.” She says it with such sadness that I almost feel sorry for her. “You and Kitty are booked in for Skip Stone’s eleven a.m. Hot Karma Movement and Meditation. Guru Stan will join to lead the meditation.”

“Hot?” Bex says.

“Yes, we have an infrared studio. It warms your body from the inside. You’re going to feel amazing. It’s not like other studios that just blow hot air, like you’re under a blow dryer. This really gets into your body, your soul. You will feel like you’re glowing,” Jennifer enthuses in her airy voice.

“Glowing like an ember in hell,” I say under my breath to Bex.

“I didn’t know it was hot yoga. That seems a little intense for me.” Bex takes two steps back toward the door.

“Yes, we didn’t know it was oven yoga. Please tell Alex thank you from us.” I think to myself that we could be at a diner eating pancakes in less than fifteen minutes.

“Are you sure? Infrared heat improves skin tone and also promotes weight loss,” Jennifer says.

“Okay!” Bex and I quickly say at the same time, then laugh. Well, what have we got to lose—a few pounds and a few wrinkles? I guess it would be good to sweat out the wine from yesterday, and the G and Ts from Saturday.

“Here are your mats, a complimentary perspiration towel and my blessings for a good class. If you’d like another towel, it’s five dollars. A vegan lunch will be served after meditation. Guru Stan encourages all of his devotees to embrace the vegan path.”

Bex leans in to whisper to me as we make our way up to the studio. “A perspiration towel! Vegan lunch? Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.”

“Hey, at least you look hot before we get hot.” I playfully pull on the strap of her tank top. “Skip Stone? Sounds like a sexy construction worker on a soap opera.”

* * *

“Breathe in to the count of four, breathe out to the count of four. Expel anything in your life that you don’t want. Breathe in two…three…four. Out…two…three…four. Now longer. Six counts in, six counts out. You’re entering a new world of consciousness with each breath.”

In the midst of Skip’s breathing instructions, he motions to Bex and me as we pause tentatively in the doorway. The class is packed. If parking a car in LA is hard, then parking a yoga mat is even harder. Maybe we will be eating pancakes soon, after all, I think optimistically. He signals that we should come up to the front of the studio and put our mats down beside his. We both shake our heads and survey the studio, hoping that miraculously some space will have opened up, preferably at the back.

There’s one space open, I nudge Bex to go for it and indicate that I’ll wait in the lobby. She looks at me with a killer “don’t you even think about it” stare.

“Summer Lotus! You made it! What’s up, girl?” Alex whispers as he squeezes past us with a wink. “Glad you two are here. Don’t worry, Skip won’t bite. Go on up to the front.”

In resignation, we carefully tiptoe our way to the front of the class, past row after row of toned bodies lying on their mats, breathing intensely and apparently releasing toxins. Does that mean we’re inhaling them? I hold my breath until we make it to the front of the studio.

We unfurl our mats and get into position, basically the position I get into when I crash into bed after a night of partying. Arms out to the side, hands facing upward in a “God forgive me pose,” legs straight out, eyes closed. Hmm, I could get used to this. Except, I think to myself as if noticing it for the first time since we walked into the room, it’s hot. I mean really hot. I don’t know what infrared is, but it’s at least the third circle of Dante’s Hell. I’m already beginning to sweat and see that the “perspiration towel” is more like a washcloth. I’m going to need something the size of an industrial tarp to wipe up my sweat.

But if Skip is an endorsement for this yoga path, then maybe I should just feel the flow. He’s lean and muscled like a lightweight boxer, while the deep tan and bleach blond dreads make him appear more surfer than yogi. Bex is checking him out too.

Maybe I could get Ethan to do yoga? Would it help us to align our chakras, whatever that means. If I couldn’t get him to stick to therapy, then I know there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of us going to a yoga class together, but I still think it might be fun. Something totally different for us to do together. Something that’s not networking at one of his work cocktail events.

As Skip gradually builds up the pace of the class and we move through more poses, I’m impressed by Bex. She’s fit and barely seems to be sweating. It’s hard to tell she’s even had a kid. Sure, she has a little bit of flab around her waist but at our age don’t we all. And her purple ensemble really does look good. Meanwhile, I peel off my T-shirt, which has been sweatily hanging on me like I’ve just taken a not-so-refreshing dip in the pool. The sweatpants are a problem, and I’m desperately trying to remember what underwear I have on in case they can pass as yoga bottoms. I look around the class and can’t believe what I’m seeing. Every tight and toned fame seeker in town must be here, and they’re all an eleven out of ten. In the midst of all this athletic exhibitionism, I feel like a turtle stripped of its shell.

While suffering through a downward dog stretch, I see a curtain of flowing blond locks on the mat behind us. This is hot yoga, put the hair extensions away! I think to myself. Beside blondie, two bro types, who look like aspiring Men’s Health cover models, are trying to topple each other over during a balancing pose. Meanwhile, I roll my soggy sweatpants up around my knees.

“And one long exhale through the mouth. Sigh everything out. One, two, three. Aaaaahhhhhhhh.” I ran out of breath thirty seconds ago but the people around me continue to drone on with their aaaahhhh. The last remaining “ahh-er” finishes and smiles like he just received a medal of honor when Skip commands, “And relax into savasana.”

Everyone begins to unfold back onto their mats, lying down as they were in the beginning of class. I look around, not knowing what savasana means, then gladly relax as I see it’s the “passed out drunk” pose from the very beginning of class. Skip walks around the mats, stopping every now and then to adjust someone’s leg or arm. He kneels over Bex and places his hands on her shoulders, right near her collarbones and presses gently, then brushes his hands down her arms. I thought he was finished but no. He holds her head in his hands and slowly moves it from side to side.

“There’s so much tension in this life. Let it all roll away. Roll away. Open yourself to peace, to love.” Is Skip Stone hitting on Bex? From that angle he’s got a clear view down her tank top. Maybe this was a date after all, but with someone other than we thought. I smirk to myself as Bex is sending me SOS eyes.

The door to the studio opens and a whiff of that marijuana/rainforest incense comes pouring in. Could this be the infamous Guru Stan? The class seems to silently rouse itself with anticipation and reverence. People move their mats closer to the front of the studio. Some have brought little pillows to sit on and proceed to sit cross-legged, straight backs in an exaggerated state of attention. Bex and I are surrounded, caught in a sea of searching souls at a Hollywood yoga studio.

As he enters the studio, he runs his hands over his scalp and tightens his one-inch ponytail. “Namaste and welcome to the beginning of enlightenment. It will always be a beginning. Enlightenment is something you will never know you’ve achieved. The journey is the enlightenment.” Guru Stan says this with the seriousness of an undertaker while looking like a lost, balding member of Kajagoogoo.

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