Good morrow, yogis! Felicitations on this blessed day upon which our heavenly Father hath chosen to spare our humble bodies from pestilence.
Let us begin by sitting quietly and feeling the inhalations and exhalations shudder through our weak flesh, purging us of sin. If thou art choleric, please cover thy face with a cloth to save thy neighbor from the illness that Satan hath visited upon ye for thy digressions from God’s path.
Now let us form the shape of a milk cow. Take care, goodwives, not to press the buttocks hindforth with too much fervor, lest ye call to mind the pose of a vile strumpet who hath fallen from grace.
Next let us prostrate ourselves in the pose of the child, pressing our foreheads with great force into our mats, in such a manner as to release the wretched spirits unleashed upon us by the witches who move secretly in our midst. If thou findst this position to be of great discomfort, thou art most certainly a bride of the Dark Lord whose flesh must burn so that we may be purged of your evil. Relax, and observe the breath.
Rising up to sit, recall the action of carding woollens in due season, and move thy legs briskly in such motion, to expunge the foul humours which course through thy flesh. Turn thy attention away from the pelvic region, where wickedness resides.
With a great heaving of the flesh, let us rise up like the shafts of wheat that our Creator hath lately seen fit to deny us, surely casting us into a famine from which only those with spotless souls will emerge at springtide.
Now let us stand in mountain pose and consider which of our neighbors may be a consort of the Dark One. Who hath lately stitched poppets, hmm? And who hath boiled herbs of strange origin? Dost thy neighbor’s field lie fallow, though it be harvest time? Breathe deeply.
Alas, our time together has come to a close. We must all hurry home before nightfall, when Beelzebub prances with his familiars upon the gravestones of good townspeople.
Do remember to cleanse thy mat before bidding us farewell. Perhaps you remember Goody Browne? She was careless with her mat and so our studio manager, Steve, did soundly whip her in the town square on Sunday last. Aye, she bellowed so, like a she-pig near birth! Let that be a lesson to us all to treat our yoga props with due reverence.
Pray remember me in your prayers, and namaste.