Noodler has Zen

This is my little brother, Adam.  He is a noodler.  He is currently in deep preparation mode for his annual, no-girls-allowed, ski trip where it is mandatory to grow manly facial hair.  He has a whatever-it-takes attitude when in preparation mode if it promises to enhance the skiing experience.  This is where my plan came into play.  


I had been allowed into his noodling world where I was, by all accounts, unsuccessful.  It was my turn now and I knew that if I worded it just right, I could lure him to yoga where I would totally up-zen him.  Because, afterall, this is what yoga is all about. 


"So a little yoga would probably be good to prepare you for your ski trip, don't you think?"  He was totally game, of course.  I explained to him the mediatation part, how to breathe properly, and if someone farts audibly, you must have jedi warrior-like composure and pretend, throughout the rest of the class, that it did not happen.  This requires a mental mastery that I was positive, he did not possess. 


As class began, I got my yoga game face on, for this would be the day that I would chalk one up for the girls.  I was going to have to sneak peeks at him, because a mature yoga student often closes their eyes in deep focus, so this was going to be tricky.  Finally, a reverse-warrior II (and my chance to take mental snapshots of his lack of zen) when what to my wondering eyes would appear?  A noodler in near perfect yoga-flow.  And, yes, my amazement-disappointment continued through the rest of the class as my brain tried to make sense of it all. 
Was he secretly doing yoga at home?  
Are some people just born flexible? 
What is going on?              


After class:
Me: Wow, you really seemed to do well in there.

Noodler:  I have been stretching at home each night a little after I get out of a hot, whirlpool soak.

Me:  So, did you learn any new "stetches?"  Like, what about the pigeon? 

Noodler:  I've always called that one the sprinter's stretch.

Me:  Cool.  (whatever)