DJ Yoga in the House!

“DJ Yoga in the house,

got a fresh cup of frothy

enlightenment to serve up

with some wicked dance

beats,” shouted DJ Yoga.

“Is this guy for real,” I asked

the person next to me.

“You don’t know DJ Yoga?”

I shook my head in the negative.

The person snorted at me and

moved to another seat.

“Yo, yo, yo, we’re gonna get

our spirituality in tune with the

groove of the universe y’all,” yelled

DJ Yoga.

I looked at the other people on the

train and some were weeping with joy.

Some were tearing at DJ Yoga’s tight

flannel yoga pants.

“Downward facing dog yo!”

DJ Yoga brushed his gloved hand through

his thick beard and then adjusted his

fedora. “We’re gonna get cosmic with this

new meditation beat yo,” he shouted at me.

“I’m not into this,” I said, “I don’t... you know,

do this stuff…,”

The deep bass of DJ Yoga’s mix scratched to a halt,

which was odd since it was on an iPod, and everyone

stared at me. A laser stare, as if they could rend flesh

from bone with mere hate.

“That’s alright baby,” yelled DJ Yoga in my face, “You’re

just not into it…yet,” as he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“No, no. I’m a bit beyond that. I had gym as a kid,

so I’m good,” I said as I started to stand.

“You don’t want a piping hot cup of celestial

enlightenment and kick ass grooves,” asked a smirking

DJ Yoga.

“No. I like my celestial enlightenment at

room temperature and my grooves mellow,”

 I said as I moved to the train doors.

“Blasphemer,” whispered one of the riders.

DJ Yoga smiled at me with his golden teeth.

“That’s just a different path, that’s all,

punk.”

DJ Yoga started his music again as we

pulled into the station and I got off

the train. The people I left were toasting

each other’s balance and woolen caps with their fair trade

blends. The doors closed behind me and the

train pulled away.