Nerding Day: Psychic Yoga🌭 (Patreon)

Time to deliver. I’ve yammered about Psychic Yoga for months, and I’m done letting you down. Today, we’ll slam spirituality and fitness together and let them sweat it out. Thus reaching a higher state.

With Gospel Aerobics.

I’d explain the concept, but I think you’ll catch on. We’ll need that time to stretch.

Oh, and ask your doctor if you can handle divine fitness. It matters: pulled moral cores cause most church affairs and embezzlements. Remember when all those priests got into powerlifting? Rough times.

I mean it, ask your doctor. If they look confused or annoyed, keep smiling. Then they’ll feel like the problem and fall in line. That trick works in some other contexts too, but we’ll explore that Sunday. Unless you’re too busy. We don’t mind.

Ah, an old friend.

Did your parents buy Aladdin twice? Then you know Goodtimes Home Video. They specialized in Disney Mockbusters, public domain properties, and negative-budget exercise videos. Making Gospel Aerobics their redemption. Not the third thing.

We’re almost ready to stretch.

That’s Kurt Carr! One of evangelical Christianity’s finest scientists. Many fear testing new roads to prosperity. He’ll try anything. Sometimes, that looks like genius. Like today, when he sings our glutes to heaven. But he risked looking like a desperate clown, and pasteurizing black music faster than usual. Kurt’s not working alone:

Meet Michelle Lemay, a constant fountain of energy and directional cues. She’s a national aerobics champion, and a natural joiner. Or rather, a born teacher. You can see all three in her commentary on her big win:

Inspiring: with Gospel Aerobics, Michelle gets to add Christianity to her religion.

As for her routine, I see why she won. Imagine elite breakdancing conditioning, expressed through Raygun’s moveset. You’re learning from the best today. If your soul’s not wrung out by the end, there’s no saving you.

We’re very close to stretching.

Step One of Gospel Aerobics: throw on some blue. Dig around your closet, there’s something. Everyone else here worships in royal blue. Don’t embarrass me.

Did you find something? He’ll know if you lie. Stretch in teal, and you’ll star in your own personal Book of Job.

The next step is to segregate.

Between aerobics experts and singers. We’re at worship, don’t make me say it. If America worked differently, you’d still have Haitian neighbors.

I don’t make the rules. Look at the dancers, and the choir. An invisible red line divides them. You know your side. Sure, one or two “talented tenths” have snuck into shorts. The next market crash will put them back in gowns. Until then, save yourself the strife and learn to love your pigeonhole.

There. Now that you’re with your people, we can stretch. The soundtrack to stretching is “Kumbaya.”

Wow, the choir’s nailing it! Good job, musical half of Gospel Aerobics! Now let’s check on the sorority.

Bend and snap, retro. Or forward thinking, since Gospel Aerobics came out in 1999. Legally Blonde wouldn’t explain my neighbors to me for two more years. Either way, I dig it.

I almost forgot! After finding your caste, make sure you’re in the right subsection. Unlike thoughtless aerobics, which pigeonhole back-up dancers by BMI, Michelle sorts her rows by skill.

And nothing else.

Three factors determine your skill: the lightness of your soul, the depth of your twerk, and the lightness of your skin. Two and three clash, since life is complex. But this groove takes thought’s weight off your shoulders. Sure, Billy Blanks builds the same sweat. But can an hour of playing karate champion soothe your spirit? Didn’t think so.

Really focus on that squat warm-up. Later on, God’s gonna make us throw ass.

And your triceps. They won’t come up later, but pull ‘em tight.

While you limber up, I’ll tackle a common and sinful question: could someone touch their child production equipment to this? That’s a bad faith insight, and your shame is correct. You should never touch your sin port, period, so it doesn’t matter what angles Kurt picks. Gospel Aerobics could be two hours of Michelle’s armpits and remain family-friendly. The sin is in your heart.

Now that your spirit’s warmed up–or even acquired fire—we can start the good stuff. What the Tae-Bo heathens call double time. No more putzing around–we’ll get fit or reach God trying.

I was wrong! The Kurt Carr Singers have their own priorities, so we’re still warming up. Back to Bend and Snap. You came to save your soul and aorta, but you might pass the bar too.

Maybe Michelle’s backup dancers are lawyers! They don’t seem like dancers.The team’s relatable, down to their death mask smiles as they push through work. More models for movement would have been nice, but Jesus accepts everyone.

It took a lot of dancing, but we’re finally ready to dance. To see a former champion reinvent herself for Hollywood. Or at least Nashville. Michelle needs this, and she knows it. This is her 8 Mile moment, down to her urban collaborators and real American audience. We’re going to learn aerobics at its divinely inspired best.

Set to “This Little Light of Mine.”

It’s very, very tempting to laugh. Focus on the burn, this is serious. Don’t laugh while you bend and snap to “This Little Light of Mine.” Or you’ll feel hell’s burn instead.

Michelle’s effort deserves respect. Like her new verse to “This Little Light of Mine:” Take it over to the side/Stretch your calves/bring your arm into your body. It’s impossible to cackle mid-bunny hop, or after the bunny hop, or as you launch into the subsequent bunny hop. So stop doing it.

“This Little Light of Mine” is for more than nursery schools. It’s a pulsing party beat, and perfect for retiree gymnastics. Stop. Laughing.

Be like Blonde Four. She enjoys learning a box step. Kind of. Her legs are moving, and she’s burning calories. That’s one of our two goals here, if you recall. The spiritual one seems doomed.

Done mocking real passion? Good. Time for Kurt ‘s subalterns to jump into “Amen.” While the Lacrosse Moms jump into jumping.

Hands clasped, praying for rhythm.

“Amen” holds our reward for saved stretching: gospel-specific choreo. You hold your hands together in prayer for half the song, while bounding left and right like a bulimic gazelle.

You’re dancing along at home, right? It’d suck to prayer-hop by myself. I’d like to have a few old friends in heaven. Preferably with malnourished 1990’s six-packs. I’m thinking we do a Mean Girls thing in heaven. They’ve probably forgotten bullying’s even a word. After all those eons of cushy peace, paradise must be ripe for the picking. We could take over with half an article’s worth of insults.

But first we have to get through fundie life. Get jumping.

Don’t worry, you’ve got another chance. Kurt has a lot of gospel standards to get through, and Michelle has even more desperate energy. Fans of Gospelfest or the late Bray Wyatt may recall the song “The Whole World In His Hands.” Since we’re warmed up, and photos of our armpits are circling the Christian web, Michelle can teach us something a little more advanced.

First we’ll step left, and kick.

Then step right, and kick.

I assume half of you are hospitalized. You gave your spines to a good cause.To the survivors: don’t you feel better already? Gospel Aerobics develops multiple key skills. Just give me a second to think of them. We’ve got four minutes of side-kicks ahead, so we can jam a bit.

Virtue One: humility. If you can dance, Gospel Aerobics feels like arm wrestling children. In fact, if you can hit a downbeat without voiding yourself, you’re beyond Michelle’s choreo. She tends to take a full song to teach acolytes to box step, and then it never comes back. In dance, we call this an “insult.”

That insult’s a test of Virtue Two: Patience. Aerobics tapes, saved or unsaved, take a while. The lord needs extensive warm-ups to shield his prophets from liability.

At least when you’re Jogging With Jesus, the scenery changes a little. Not too much, if your community’s properly gated, but different flowers. If I let the devil in, this routine feels like an eternal electric slide. But I keep the devil out, like all my old fears of an endless thoughtless void. Stay back, heart attack!

So really, Kurt and Michelle are helping. Thank them after we do a few air humps.

Finally, there’s Virtue Three: Patience. Michelle has the same problem as talky video game leads: not much to say, and years to fill. After hearing “warming it up” and “to the right” enough times, you might consider satanism. Accept that thought, understand it, and forgive yourself. Because the Holy Spirit never will.

Anyway, time for stretching.

To cool down our souls. Leave too hot, and you might wake up mid-inquisition. Or with TI band irritation. Which, if you’ve ever had it, is worse than a witch trial. Stop jumping stairs, you’re not fifteen. You, the reader.

At first, “Amazing Grace” sounds like a lot for gym class butterfly stretches. But slave trading’s a lot like closed hips. So when you open your hips, you open your soul. That must be true, or Gospel Aerobics would be delirious nonsense. The kind of human pratfall that keeps clowns from homelessness.

Nah. Open hips, open soul. Now I’m ready for Psychic Yoga.

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