Can I be really honest here?
I’m at Wanderlust in Vermont and I’ve spent the entire day walking around exploring the grounds, checking out classes and people watching.
And all day it took every single fiber in my being not to silently make fun of every single one of these people; they aren’t really your average class-going yogis, either. They’re ultra dedicated to the cause: I’m talking barefoot, dreadlocked, body painted, hennaed, kombucha-loving hippies (and I do mean that in the nicest way possible, of course).
I, on the other hand, don’t exactly fit with these people. Obviously. I mean, I call myself the bad yogi and I don’t know how much more contrarian it can get after that, haha. Maybe like the meth cooking yogi? Too far, ok moving on… Anyway, so I ate a freaking delicious meal but when I ordered I’m pretty sure I could physically feel the daggers being shot in my direction because I ordered the only item on the menu with bacon. Go figure!
After dinner I was supposed to go to this party called the Wanderlust Spectacular, which was basically a cirque du soleil -esque performance punctuated by random dancing. Now, let me stop here because you probably don’t know that I don’t dance in public, lol. Actually, let me clarify: I just don’t dance alone in public. If I was with someone, then sure, but flyin’ solo? That just feels awkward!
BUT! As I looked around in my total jerky, judgmental mood, I started seeing these people dancing like they didn’t even care if anyone was looking at them funny. They were so free and looked like they were having such a great time that I started to feel like an idiot for being the one just standing there. So what do you know? The ice around my cold heart melted and I danced like a Bollywood supastar all night. I actually left mentally planning the bodypaint colors and henna design I’m getting tomorrow, so hold tight for the next post! 😉