• Reagan Hart

Wanderlust: Expectation versus Reality

It has taken me a couple of years to adjust to life in the Bay Area, mainly the location of things. That’s one of the hardest parts about moving to a new place, knowing where the nearest gas stations and grocery stores are, that also have the best prices. I’m on year two-and-a-half of living in Silicon Valley. I now know what day and hour to go to Costco in San Jose for gas, and that Tuesday’s at Sprouts Santa Clara are hardly poppin’. Now that I am out of the “where is everything, my life has been twisted turned upside down” phase of moving, I can finally enjoy the new area we live in, and all that the region has to offer. 

I was randomly scrolling the web one day, looking for events to attend, and I got excited. I found out that Wanderlust was coming to The Bay Area in a few months. I knew that all of the top yoga instructors had taught at previous Wanderlust Festivals, and I wanted to witness the hype. The event was going to be at Golden Gate Park, which is precisely 48 minutes from my house without traffic, and 2 hours with it. Knowing the festival was over the weekend, I guessed that traffic into the city would be minimal. So, I booked a ticket for the Sunday Session, held on Cinco de Mayo. 

The months passed quickly, and suddenly it was Wanderlust weekend. I almost bowed out. You see, I am not as avid of a yogi as I once was. I thought that in the months between purchasing the ticket to Wanderlust and attending the festival, I would get back into my five-years-ago teaching eight classes a week, and practicing twenty hours a week, shape. Well, that didn’t happen. 

I was worried that I would be sitting in a room filled with “yoga bitches.” Excuse me if I offended you, but if you practice yoga, you know who they are. These are the girls who walk into a yoga class on the first day and can do all of the advanced poses just as well, or even better, than the instructor. The rest of us mere mortals are trying desperately to get into crow pose while they are going from crow to handstand and back... 

These girls usually have a tribe of other girls just like them, and they all have waist length glossy hair and wear extra small white yoga leggings because they have no cellulite on their asses that may peep through. They are all yoga influencers with part-time jobs at Lululemon, just for the discount, you know. They don’t understand the struggle, at all.

Okay, my words may have dramatized them a little bit, but you all get the gist. I thought that this event would only be welcoming to hyper-flexible, toned, out of touch girls, and I wouldn’t belong. 

Well… I was wrong. 

There were women, and men, of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. One curvy lady ROCKED white leggings. There were also many loners like myself. Moms and daughters practiced side-by-side; this made me miss my dad. He is my yoga buddy.

There was a yoga doing, “fuck” saying preacher. She spoke about her recovery in AA openly and gave a talk all accepting yourself for who you are, in the present moment.  

I took a bomb yoga class from MC Yogi. He used claps, snaps, and music to keep us engaged in the practice. I tried various smoothies, shakes, and snacks. I even got my hair French Braided, and my face painted with a pretty, white design. 

I do need to mention, for shits and gigs of course, that Marathon Guy was in attendance. He managed to tell the gorgeously talented Rocky Heron about the half marathon he did before coming to his class. Spiderwoman was there too, she went from a handstand and flipped backward into an extended wheel pose when Rocky said, “if you would like to do any more backbends, this is your chance.” Even he was kind of shocked.

Overall, Wanderlust was great, and the total opposite of what I expected. I could keep up with the classes, and the teachers weren’t sharing their most advanced and intricate flow series. They were kind, relatable and motivational. The vibe of the other attendees was chill and relaxed. 

I will go again next year and would recommend other yogis attend as well!

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© 2020 by Reagan Hart