Some people try yoga for peace, balance, and inner strength. Others try it because their therapist said “it might help with the rage dreams.” And then there’s Miss Snowwolf, also known as Mary, who approached yoga with the optimism of a puppy and the spatial awareness of a wrecking ball.
This is the true (and slightly exaggerated) story of the time Miss Snowwolf tried yoga—and accidentally turned it into a full-blown wrestling match.
Spoiler: downward dog was never meant to be that aggressive.
The Calm Before the Chaos
It all started on a Tuesday, a day Mary typically reserved for awkward encounters and emotional recovery from Monday. She was scrolling through a self-help blog titled “How to Be a Serene Goddess of Light”, when an ad popped up:
🧘♀️ Beginner Yoga with Madison!
Find Your Center, Strengthen Your Core, Heal Your Inner Wolf!
“Perfect,” Mary thought, sipping iced coffee while lying upside-down on her couch. “This is it. This is the beginning of my peaceful, grounded era.”
She registered instantly. She even ordered a floral yoga mat and a lemon-scented water bottle.
Little did the studio know: peace had never met chaos quite like Mary.
Arrival at the Studio (A Troubling Start)
Mary arrived ten minutes late, bursting through the studio doors like she was entering a hostage negotiation. Her gym bag was unzipped, headphones tangled around her neck, and one sock had mysteriously vanished between her car and the front desk.
“Namaste,” the receptionist whispered gently.
“Namaste,” Mary responded loudly, tripping over a decorative fountain.
She stumbled into the class just as Madison, the calm and glowing instructor, was saying, “Now, we begin with gentle breathwork…”
Mary plopped down on the only available mat—front row center—unrolling hers with such force that it slapped the ground like a sumo wrestler entering a ring.
The room flinched in unison.
Pose One: Child’s Pose, or Puppy Slam
The first pose was Child’s Pose, a gentle resting position meant to ease beginners into practice.
Madison spoke softly, like she was narrating a forest meditation tape: “Lower yourself, gently fold forward, stretch the arms…”
Mary, ever the overachiever, launched herself downward so aggressively she face-planted into her mat with a thump.
“Just—breathe into it,” Madison offered diplomatically.
Mary, muffled through the mat: “I am the pose.”
From the back row, someone whispered, “Is she okay?”
She gave a thumbs-up. Her tail, unfortunately, was now sticking straight up like a periscope.
Pose Two: Downward Dog and the Great Tail Trip
Next came Downward Dog, the famous inverted V-shaped stretch. It’s supposed to be grounding, stabilizing, empowering.
Unless you’re Mary.
She got into position—sort of—and then, in an effort to “engage her core,” somehow swung her tail around like a boomerang, smacking the woman behind her squarely in the forehead.
The woman yelped. Mary lost balance and toppled over sideways into a large potted plant, which toppled with her. Soil scattered. Leaves flew.
The instructor inhaled deeply. “Let’s all just… bring awareness back to the breath.”
Mary stood up, covered in ferns. “I brought awareness to the plant.”
Pose Three: Warrior II… or WWE II
Now came Warrior II, a strong, stable pose. Madison described it as “reaching through energy, expanding into courage.”
Mary interpreted it as “lunge dramatically and claim territory.”
With arms stretched wide and feet rooted unevenly, Mary looked less like a peaceful warrior and more like she was preparing for a wrestling entrance at WrestleMania.
“Feel powerful,” Madison encouraged.
Mary roared.
Yes. Roared.
Startled, a man next to her lost his balance and staggered into the mirror. The room echoed with clumsy thuds and muffled apologies.
Madison paused, blinked, then said quietly, “Let’s all return to our breath again.”
Mary panted like a prizefighter.
Pose Four: Tree Pose… and the Fall of Forestry
Tree Pose is designed to build balance and focus. You stand on one foot, press the other to your inner thigh or calf, and reach upward like a growing tree.
Mary’s first mistake: choosing the foot with the torn sock.
Her second mistake: doing it next to a ceiling fan.
She lifted her leg. She wobbled. She overcompensated. She reached for the sky… and her paw brushed the fan.
The spinning blades whooshed.
Mary shrieked.
She spun dramatically and clung to the nearest classmate, pulling them down in what could only be described as an unintentional suplex.
“Timber!” someone whispered from the back.
The Moment Yoga Became Wrestling
At this point, Mary had knocked over two mats, three people, one plant, and a very expensive essential oil diffuser.
Madison, trying her best to remain Zen, said, “Let’s enter Happy Baby Pose.”
Mary misheard this as “Happy Wrestling Baby,” apparently, because she rolled onto her back, grabbed her feet, and began rocking back and forth with such velocity she knocked herself into another student, locking them in what vaguely resembled a figure-four leg lock.
“OHHHH,” Mary shouted. “This is good for my hips!”
“Is this yoga or judo?” someone muttered.
“I think it’s both,” another replied.
The Cooling Catastrophe (Shavasana Showdown)
Finally, Madison guided the class into Shavasana—the resting pose. It was time to lie back, close the eyes, and let go.
Mary exhaled dramatically, as if preparing for an Oscar-worthy death scene. She flopped onto her back with the grace of a walrus sliding off an iceberg.
Just as the room began to settle into serenity… Mary sneezed.
Loudly.
Violently.
Startled, she kicked out and hit the portable speaker, which crashed to the floor and started blaring Eye of the Tiger.
Instead of turning it off, Mary stood up and said:
“Let’s end on cardio, yes?”
Post-Class Reflection: The Debrief of the Damaged
After the chaos subsided and most of the class had recovered their breath (and dignity), Mary approached Madison with a hopeful smile.
“So… how did I do?”
Madison paused. Considered her answer carefully.
“Well… you brought a lot of energy to the room.”
Mary beamed. “Thank you. I felt very alive.”
Behind her, a student iced their ankle with a bag of frozen peas from the yoga studio’s emergency fridge.
What Mary Learned (Kind Of)
Later that evening, Mary wrote in her journal, which was covered in glitter and snacks:
“Today, I embraced yoga. Or maybe I body-slammed it. Either way, it fought back and I have no regrets.”
She had bruises on her knees, dirt in her fur, and a sense of fulfillment that only comes from truly throwing yourself—sometimes literally—into something new.
Final Thoughts: Not All Yoga Is Peaceful—But All Effort Counts
Mary didn’t leave that yoga class enlightened or perfectly flexible. But she did leave it better than she entered: with laughter in her lungs, sweat in her ears, and a newfound respect for stillness (which she now understands is very hard).
Not everyone’s journey toward inner peace is a silent one. For some—like Mary—it’s a loud, clumsy, fumble-filled expedition that looks more like a martial arts tournament than a wellness retreat.
But here’s the thing: she showed up. She tried. She gave it everything, including her bodyweight and a tackle or two.
And maybe that’s what yoga is really about—not nailing the pose, but being present in the moment… even if the moment includes a wrestling move.
So next time you roll out your yoga mat and try to quiet your mind, think of Mary the Snowwolf.
Breathe deep. Balance your soul. Stretch your limbs.
And if you fall flat on your face?
Smile, laugh, and roll with it.
Mary would.
