Soulful
Yoga Hip-Hop A-Go-Go Hour
Body Moves of Portland
918 SW Yamhill St., 4th floor, 234-5324
7:30-8:30 pm Fridays $8, or six classes for $36
Susanna Walsh also gives private lessons and teaches two all-levels
yoga classes 6:45-8:15 pm and 8:30-10 pm Sundays at the Yoga
Space, 2536 SE Ankeny St.
Hip-hop and Hinduism appear to have little to do with each
other, but to Susanna Walsh, they are synergistic siblings.
Walsh, a Portland resident for four and a half years and
a yoga instructor for three, does not fit the standard definition
of a swami. "A lot of students expected me to live a certain
type of lifestyle and were surprised that I'd go out dancing,
drink alcohol and eat meat," says the 27-year-old native
Chicagoan.
Walsh's emphatically unusual "Soulful Yoga Hip-Hop A-Go-Go
Hour" targets people like her--post-aerobics craze non-neurotics.
"Our bodies want to stretch, to dance. I want to get people
energized for whatever their Friday night might hold, make
them a little limbered up," reasons Walsh, who looks quite
limber herself, close-cropped blond hair crowning a shiny
complexion and healthy bod.
The Soulful session eschews some elements typical of traditional
yoga. For starters, there's DJ Mr. White Buffalo. While
various old-school yogas summon students to chant to a backdrop
of silence--or possibly ambient dreck--Walsh encourages
participants to release stress in bellows and shrieks as
Buffalo spins the Beastie Boys and Digable Planets. The
Hip-Hop Hour does incorporate many of the asanas,
or postures, found in Ashtanga, Bikram and Iyengar routines,
but yogis go at their own pace. Walsh assures the crowd
that it's more important to protect the spine and breathe
with awareness than to push to the point of pain. Next comes
the whooping, as she shows how to let go of stress by shaking
out muscles and exercising vocals, inciting a roomful of
funkadelic banshees. Buffalo controls the volume on "Intergalactic"
as Walsh walks through the routines. She takes a standard
pose such as "warrior" and channels it into a flow that
may include four other postures, eventually coaxing students
to speed up and move to the music.
Though the balancing poses are challenging and nailing
the routine sequence can be frustrating, the class is not
a tough work-out. Walsh emphasizes circulation as the key
to letting the body function as it's meant to, and she schedules
ample time to ease the intensity at hour's end.
There is no licensing requirement to teach yoga. Walsh
admits that such laxity can invite problems, but says, "With
a good teacher, there can be no injury to the body." Through
intuition, observation and participation in countless yoga
classes over the past seven years, Walsh has learned by
teaching and watching how bodies respond. Her take on yoga
removes some of the seriousness and mysticism associated
with the traditionally spiritual discipline.
After attending two consecutive classes, I was impressed
by Walsh's undying verve and her cautious yet spontaneous
approach. The Hip-Hop Hour now attracts about 15 people
every Friday, up from 10 students when the class started
three months ago. Walsh says the group size will need to
grow if she's to keep the class going. Whether it does depends
on whether combining two of today's hottest fetishes is
a stroke of genius or just another example of cross-culturalism
gone mad.
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Willamette Week | originally
published July 14, 1999
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