Eat them. Don’t look for the answers of the universe in them.
I started off the morning right by making a huge batch of pancakes. As one of the RAs that’s around during break, I was asked to do some sort of program for the residents that are still around. I stuck with what I know best: brunch on someone else’s tab. We had a decent turnout too. One guy asked what brand my pancakes were. I told him it was the Yazge-Family-Recipe brand. I don’t think he got the joke… But as proud as I was of my little pancake-palooza, I was not impressed by the yoga session I went to after.
Here’s the thing, I don’t go to yoga for enlightenment. I’m not interested in getting my chakras all aligned, or looking out my third eye. Kudos to everyone that uses yoga as a spiritual exercise, but not my thing. Nor is making an excessive amount of noise on my exhale. If I wanted to hear grunts and sighs like that, I’d just save myself the energy and stay home and watch certain adult movies instead. My goal at yoga is to loosen up my muscles a little bit, stretch, and relax. If I gain a little core strength, awesome; that’s the cherry on top. Our instructor today was trying to walk us through this explanation of how when you combine the Sanskrit words for “inhale” and “exhale” they mean “to exist in space” or “happy butterflies in my green tea” or something. Obviously, it was profound. There was also a crazy woman next to me who halfway through the session got up and checked the song on the instructor’s iPod. This is why I’m a runner, and not a yoga-head; the only thing that gave me the “warm fuzzies of enlightenment” today were my buttermilk pancakes.