2008 Ashtanga Calendars: The hunt

Do you really want another Yoga Journal calendar this year?

The goal: find a yoga calendar that speaks to ashtanga people.

Here is what I have found:

1. Caroline Klebl 2008 Ashtanga Yoga Calendar :

This is a black and white ashtanga-specific calendar. I like that it is polished and well-designed, but I wish it were of more than just one person. I think it can be a bit austere. (Picture on the right of Caroline in Karandavansana.)

2. If you must, here is Yoga Journal's calendar:

I love the bright colors of this calendar, but if you feel like you've seen these images before, it is because you have...This photo on the left of Kino MacGregor, for instance, was used for a cover, and to promote their conferences, and now this. There is only one ashtangi (I think) in this calendar, the rest are super-star yoga journal types, which is great (if you're into that sort of thing). Still, Kino's back bends are intoxicating. Can we have a posted of just Kino...backbending...all the time?

3. 2008 Shakti Calendar:

So, I was looking around this yoga boutique one day, when I came across this book called, Yoga Shakti, or was it just, Shakti? Anyway, it is a book of nudie ladies doing nudie yoga. Yep, that's it. I am under the impression that it was one of Shiva Rea's doings. And, here we have the calendar version. Will you like it? Well, it is in black and white, and therefore, tasteful, right? Do you like Anne Geddes calendars? You know the naked babies dressed as flowers or pumpkins? Well if you don't like those, you probably won't like this, unless of course, you really like boobs.

4. 2008 Acro Yoga Calendar:

Say what you will about the Acro Yoga vibe that is sweeping the world, but well, they are taking the world by storm. It has got to be something about the smiling and all the fun they seem to be having doing none other than yoga. This is a vibrant calendar printed in color with images of balancing, twirling, etc., all with partners in interesting locations. It is fun, it is inspiring, it is co-ed. If you're not down with the Acro Yogis, you won't be down with this. But it is nice that these are images of "real people". The picture on the left is of "March".

5. 2008 The Yoga Calendar:

This is what you would expect from the typical run-of-the-mill, cheesy, hobby-related, calendar. It incorporates all things old-school-back-of-yoga-journal-spiritual-advertisements: Extreme asanas, of no particular theme or style (except aaah factor), extreme locals* (think David Swenson across to boulders), and bike shorts. It does get points for being color, outdoors, and non-yoga journal.

*Sometimes pics of people doing yoga outdoors is annoying to me. They weren't doing their whole practice, they were just like BAM! here's a move that's cool, right? Take a picture! It just isn't very authentic and hard for me to look at for a whole month.

6. 2008 Yoga Wall Calendar (Balance of Body and Soul):

This calendar looks like an Omega add campaign set in Greece. That's all I have to say. See cover image on left.

7. Calendar I wish they were making in 2008*:

I first saw this calendar (image on right) in February on a visit to Ashtanga Yoga of Albuquerque. As far as I know, they are not available this year, which is a shame, as they truly capture the feeling of practice. Perhaps this feeling of authenticity comes from the fact that these people in California are actually practicing. It is full-color, full-on ashtanga mysore every month of the year. Well, at least for the lucky few that had one in 2007.

*Thanks to Yogibare for informing me that there are calendars available in 2008. I don't know if there are any left, as you have to pre-order, but it is worth a try! Try this link http://www.morningmysore.com/ or http://www.divine-eye.com/calendar.html.

8. Guru 2008 Calendar

I suppose yoga does have the reputation for being a "girlie-thing". It is in this spirit that this calendar was put together.

Blah blah blah

I included this all-man, "manly" calendar because watching them try is just so darn cute!

9. Wake up yoga 2008 Calendar:

This sweet little calendar is of local teachers at the studio, "Wake Up Yoga", located in in Philadelphia. Perhaps I shouldn't have included this calendar, as it is not ashtanga-specific. But let's face it, there just really isn't that much to offer at the moment. If it is any consolation, they have an ashtanga led primary on their schedule...Anyway, I like cheering for the underdogs, and here we have some local peeps, doing their thing. I am SO into that!

10. The only calendar I live by:

"Shala time". Period.

HAPPY 2008 EVERYONE!

Be sure to check out http://www.livingmysore.com/ in January as we are launching our first magazine issue very soon!

A first-timer's meditations on mysore, practice, and all things India

The great thing about reading blogs is that it is like reading a story that is taking place in "real time". Well, probably because it is. I wonder if anyone out there is writing completely fictional blogs. I find this fascinating. So did I, or did I not study for three months in Mysore? You'll have to decide for yourself.

This blog chronicles my trip to Mysore, India from July-October 2007.

Unfortunately, the blog format is not very user-friendly for those wishing to start from the beginning. To read the blog from the beginning, scroll down this page and look for the "archive" located on the right. Click on "July". You'll have to read the entries from the bottom up. Does anyone know how to reverse this?

Thanks for reading my blog. If you have any questions or feedback, please email me at livingmysore@gmail.com, or leave a comment on my current project, http://www.ashtangainspired.blogspot.com/.

The Yoga Passbook and Shopping for the Yogi in Your Life

Okay, so I just read this blog entry:

http://blogs.yogajournal.com/cityblog/new_york/

December 04, 2007 New York: The Yoga PassBook

In case you were wondering, I'm here to break it down for you. I've been a yoga skeptic, a yoga student, a yoga teacher, a yoga studio administrator, even a yoga tourist. So based on my experience, here is my take on what said blog dubs the "perfect gift"...The New York Yoga PassBook.

Pros

1. It is very inexpensive and a great deal. For only $75 you get a whole year's worth of yoga. Really, there are way more passes than a person can use in one year.

2. You get to try a variety of different classes and styles.

Cons

1. You'll always be going to a different studio. This could be a good thing, but you miss out on the whole student/teacher relationship.

2. Even though it is not always enforced, on the back of each pass, it says that the classes are for new students only. So you might be turned away if you try to use it at a studio you've already been to, or you might not.

3. Call ahead, sometimes the pass will only apply to certain classes on the schedule.

4. The studios DO NOT get reimbursed in any way in the sales of these books. What this means is that a studio agrees to be in the book and that they will give away an unlimited number of free/discounted classes. The idea is that students are buying these passes to try out classes and then to pick the studio they like best. Studios hope that students will pick them. Unfortunately, many people abuse the passbook and buy one year after year, returning to studios year after year, expecting free classes. Although the passbook itself says that passes are for "new students" only, they still sent me a notice reminding me to buy another passbook this year, perpetuating the cycle.

5. Sometimes, teachers are paid "per head" and "comp" students don't count.

6. My passbook arrived ONE MONTH LATE. This was after a number of phone calls to the "company" (a guy sitting in his pricey NY apartment, he didn't even answer the phone with a company name and seemed confused when I asked if I had reached the right number), asking for a new passbook to be shipped. There is a shipping fee and the guy would not even wave the fee, even after a month of waiting. He did, however, encourage me to meet him at his apartment to pick up a copy if I'd like. Weird.

Conclusions:

If you have a lot of time, buy the passbook, try out some classes. You only need to take about 4 classes to make it worth the purchase. Please keep in mind that the studios and teachers are providing you a free service, and be sure to thank them PROFUSELY!

Holidays got you stumped? What do you get the person who wants nothing but inner peace?

My holiday shopping recommendations for the yoga-enthusiast in your life:

1. Yoga mat bag. Its classic. But make sure they don't already own, like 10. Try to make it eco-friendly, or handmade, organic, etc. You'll get extra points if it has pockets for their stuff. Saka bags are really fab, but they are made in China:(.

2. An eco-friendly yoga mat. Try harmony, gaiam, or manduka. You'll get extra points if you offer to donate their old mat to charity for them. Contact organizations like bent on learning, homeless shelters, or your local animal shelter.

3. A gift certificate to lululemon, prana, gaiam, hyde, hard tail, or be present. You might think your taste is fab, but your gift recipient is practicing yoga. Although honesty is encouraged, they are likely to tell you that they love whatever you got them. Do them the favor and let them pick something they really like.

4. A private lesson with their favorite instructor. Do the research!

5. A class pack at their favorite yoga studio or a workshop. You get points if you are going to attend the class/es/workshop with them.

6. A mat cover. Either a "mysore rug" or Yogitoes. If they live in the city and don't want to haul their mat, they might be using studio rentals. I don't want to begin about that...Just believe me when I say that you really want them to cover that mat! The rug/yogitoes are light and convenient to use. If you know they aren't into that, maybe get them some mat wipes...

7. An eco-friendly water bottle. I saw these great metal bottles at wholefoods yesterday... While you are at whole foods, you could also get a gift set of all organic, paraben free products from companies like Pangaea organics....

8. A subscription to a yoga magazine. There is yoga journal, namarupa, joy and living, fit yoga, vegetarian times, etc...I know, its not very eco-friendly, but its better than buying off the newsstand!

9. Yoga/India movie. Check yoga journal's website for ideas. Try Iyengar's Estes Park Video if your person is into Iyengar and they already have a subscription to yoga journal. If they practice ashtanga, go to ashtanga.com and get them maybe "ashtanga, ny", "guru", or "sharath's primary series" video. You could also get them something that is all about India. There's that movie, "Water". OR you could go for a documentary like yoga unveiled, naked in the ashes, or yoga inc.

10. Books. So either think BIG like a coffee table book for pictures, information, or philosophy. If you are buying for an ashtangi, try the Mysore book, or maybe ashtanga Yoga As it Is. There's also Light on Life or anything by Pema Chodron. Shantaram is really great. I'd say Eat, Pray Love, but EVERYONE has read that... Think about what they are into and what makes sense for them. Oh! A cookbook from an ashram or retreat center would be great!

11. Massage

12. Ayurvedic consultation, nutrition consultation, going green advisor, palm reader, etc.

13. a haircut or other service from an organic salon.

14. eye pillow. not everyone will want this. but it is nice to have your own for savasana.

15. Donation. make a donation in their name to a charity.

16. Healthy Restaurant. A gift certificate or date to a healthy restaurant or an Indian restaurant. PS-you aren't allowed to complain if you don't like it.

17. Yoga vacation. Get them frequent flier miles, a ticket, or maybe the fees to take that dream yoga vacation. You get points if you go with them.

18. Yoga Date. Take them to a class, take the class with them (that is important), buy them something from the boutique if they want, take them out to tea/dessert/smoothies/a meal.

19. Baked goods/home cooked meal. always nice!

20. A pedicure! Boy do we yogi people need them!

Hope this helps! But really, what's best is to just spend time with them and maybe pretend you are interested next time they want to tell you about downward dog.

"Antennas to heaven"

When it finally does snow, it stops being cold, it becomes beautiful.

The snow keeps its own pace. I sometimes remember to look up, and when I do, I'm surprised at how the sky really is falling right down on me at a rapid speed.

Recently viewed: The Beach. Please don't watch it. Once again, the book was SO much better.

Also: Water. Soft, subtle, colorful, horrific, beautiful, life changing, and all things India.

Current Read: Sigmund Freud's Civilization and its Discontents. I particularly enjoy his comments on the westerner's pursuit of eastern practices such as yoga. Also interesting, he says there are 3 sources of suffering. 1. our bodies are decaying and we will die. 2. the world is relentless and cruel. 3. people.

I find that like anything else I read on life and philosophy, turning on the lights is a great way to figure out that the monster in the corner is actually a pile of clothes.

Listening to: "Antennas to Heaven" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor (Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven [part2]) and then "Moonrise" by Sean Hayes (Alabama Chicken)

Money

Yes, money.

I just read these articles listed on the e-sutra list. You can read them by clicking either of these links:

http://esutra.blogspot.com/2007/12/financial-realities-and-occupational.html

http://esutra.blogspot.com/2002/09/yogis-behaving-badly.html

While I agree with the majority of what they are saying, I feel like they avoid the main issue: how to dedicate one's life to sharing the gift of yoga while at the same time being able to live.

I remember during my first teacher training, the question of money was a taboo subject. Maybe it was not intentional, but no one really wanted to talk about it. Yes, I was doing the training for my own practice and to share this gift of yoga with others, but at the same time, I have to pay rent just like anyone else.

Entering the world of teaching yoga was surreal. No one could have prepared me for it. There are no real standards for paying teachers, and in fact, there is often no professionalism. I have had multiple studios fail to pay me for classes I taught, but I guarantee that they never failed to collect money from the students.

I've had studio owners who were very nonchalant about pay dates and the writing of checks, and those who were personally offended by my "energy", when I requested that I be compensated for classes that I taught.

As a yoga teacher, there are usually no contracts, written or otherwise, that guarantee a teaching gig. (Requesting one is out of the question. Being hired is usually about your "Energy". Unless of course, you have been teaching since 1990, have packed classes, and your own line of videos.) The class could be cancelled in a second with no notice. Further, there is hardly ever a duration attached to a class. Everything is "indefinite".

Lets say I want to give up a class, studios often are upset if there is less than A MONTH of notice. At the same time, a teacher can be fired without even knowing it.

Sometimes, payment is given on a per head basis. It is interesting to find when these arrangements are made for a class time that is known to be unpopular, only setting the teacher up for failure.

YOGA TEACHERS OFTEN DO NOT HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE!

There are no guarantees that one will be able to attain classes. Education often has little to do with it. People may be hired because they want a male on their teaching staff, or this person is beautiful, or they like their energy, or they are friends with so and so. Ultimately, it is about who will get the classes packed and keep the students coming. Everyone has rent to pay.

Yes, the commercialization of yoga can be disheartening. Yes, the number of poorly trained and ill-experienced teachers may be on the rise. But, I am having a hard time staying in an industry (and it is an industry) with such poor labor practices when the product they are selling is kindness, understanding, mindfulness, enlightenment, inner peace, etc.

Some of us aren't so lucky that we can't simply ask for more classes to have enough to pay the rent. And even if we did, this is a physically and mentally exhausting job.

So why do I do it? I do it because of the way I feel when I practice. I do it because of the way I hope I can help people feel when they practice. I do it because I hope that the industry will change. I hope that studios will learn how to be fair and to respect the teachers and the time they are giving. I hope that studios can find a way to make yoga accessible to those who cannot afford a $15 yoga class. I hope that teachers can start speaking up for themselves and that maybe working together, we can change the direction this is going in.

There are some studios that are really trying hard to make these changes. For instance, Yoga Works is now offering a 401k plan for ALL of their instructors. This is HUGE! Some studios offer health insurance, but these are generally the large franchises, and it is only offered to teachers who have over a certain number of classes (so it would be in the studio's favor to limit a teacher's class number).

When are we going to start getting serious about honoring our educators? Not just yoga, but also public school, college, etc? If this is not what we value, what are valuing?

Snow is coming

I try to imagine what it would be like if it snowed in Mysore. This makes me remember watching the "Guruji, Copenhagan" film at the India Song House in Mysore. In it, Guruji is all bundled up, ready to face the weather. This makes me smile.

I miss him, and I miss Mysore. I miss having a teacher watching me. I miss the simplicity of the days.

I walked into my room today and just did my laundry. This event has been some time in the making. But I did it. I didn't think about it, I just did it.

Sometimes when I practice, I'm looking at the tip of my nose, and where I am seems timeless, place less, even. I feel like maybe Sharath is to my right and that the blur I can sense is him instead of a laundry bin.

I want to tell myself that right now I am learning leaps and bounds of information, that I am going out every night and meeting new people, that my classes are packed and in demand, that my relationships are strong and mutually fulfilling. I'm searching my mind, my heart, and wondering if there is some sort of block, something I can't see, some kind of resistance, something. Despite all the "spiritual growth" and inquiry, despite all the philosophy and life practices I have been studying for some time, I still fall into these same patterns. I don't want to be dramatic, but they are patterns of self-inflicted misery. The worse part is that I am usually completely aware that I am doing it. Its like being in for surgery and hearing, feeling, and seeing the surgeons slice my skin. Hmmm.

I consider myself lucky to have moments like I just did where I can step back just far enough to admit that I feel like shit, but also that its all so ridiculous.

No matter all the precautions one may take, a flat tire is always a possibility. The thing is, when one gets a flat, usually the reaction is not to just ignore it, but to actively go through the process to have it repaired.

Recently Read: "The Beach" Verdict: couldn't put it down. It made standing outside on a subway platform at five in the morning in the snow, bearable.

Recently Watched: The author of "Eat, Pray, Love" on Oprah. I haven't fully digested this yet, but I think there is something good happening here.

Post script: But its the students that really get to me. I've had 2 walk out of my led primary recently when they saw I'd be teaching. But what I am actually refering to is the students who keep coming back and keep trying. Its amazing. There are days when I really, seriously want to throw in the towel, and then I see them practice and I remember that this is why I'm here.

Thinking

So here was the plan. Feeling inspired, refreshed, and motivated to come back from India and hit the ground running I thought to myself, "there are so many things in New York that I have not experienced, done, etc." So, I would spend my time here living like I meant it. I don't know how long I will be living in this city and I really want to feel like I squeezed everything I could out of it.

But now that I am here, I've realized (or was rudely reminded) how much the money in your pocket influences what you are able to do in a day. New York is so expensive and I refuse to get a job that sustains me at a higher income level. So what can I do?

I've come back as the new me and have had to live the life of the old me. It is sometimes comfortable to walk the paths old me has already paved, but more and more I feel like I look like someones long lost daughter and they are making me wear all her clothes.

I didn't know it would be like this.

I had health issues, nothing major, but to determine the causes, I avoided stressful situations, jobs, and work loads, I slowly reduced my diet to vegan and macrobiotic, I developed a regular schedule that kept everything sattvic.

And now its tamasic.

I want to delete everything around me because I can't point out what is driving me crazy. Is it the weather? New York? My job? My schedule? My apartment? My belongings? My diet? My thoughts? The way I look? My family? My friends? My significant other? My finances? My practice? Is it me?

I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought was not "let's practice", but "I want breakfast". So I ate. And now I'm debating whether to go to a class, practice at home or call today a rest day because I intend to go to a friend's class tomorrow.

99%practice 1% theory

I am waiting

I go through my day and I have these little bursts of thoughts, ideas, collections of stories that I think I'm going to sit and write about. And then I sit and like a vivid, violent dream, I forget them all.

I feel like I'm waiting for something.

Practice was soothing today. My wrists are getting testy. I think its partly due to the colder NY weather. I feel like I fall asleep for days at a time and then all of a sudden I wake up. It happened in practice. I kept going in, going in, going in. The thinking mind, going in, following the thoughts, going in, going in, going in. And then all of a sudden I was in a forward bend and realized that I could slide forward a few inches. Something released and my spine shot forward, my chest broadened, my shoulders relaxed.

Now what?

Recently viewed: David Lynch's "Inland Empire". I'm not sure I needed the extra stress that this film brings the viewer, but hey, that's the price you pay for needing to know.

You just have to show up!

I remember going days without talking at all to my mysore teacher. Days. We just didn't need to say anything.

In Mysore, there are a few phrases that are on constant repeat. The first time you hear them, you laugh. The second time you hear them you think "wait a second!" Every time you hear them after that you laugh.

Right now I've got Sharath saying "don't be lazy" and John saying "you just have to show up". And I'm trying to show up. I really am.

I'm learning so much from home practice right now, and its not new poses or new things I didn't know I could do. Instead, I'm learning about motivation, procrastination, giving up, believing in yourself, not trying, and tricking myself into practice.

yoga is the cessation of the thinking mind. Then the seer can abide in its own true nature.

Post-Thanksgiving Consumer Stress

I found myself bleary-eyed and bundled up waiting in a line winding behind a building at 4:30am. This time, however, I wasn't waiting for a spot in the Shala. Instead, I was there to battle hundreds of other bargain hunters with dreams of $300 laptops dancing in their heads. The doors opened at 5am, and complete chaos ensued in a very real way.

I didn't get a computer.

I'm still digesting my holiday meal. I'm not sure if it was the stress, missing yoga for two days, or the amount of cheese this poor complete-vegan-until-recently endured. I think that I am ready to admit that I do not particularly enjoy the holidays all the time. I think this is growing up.

The small pleasures

Being on time.

Being relaxed when you know you're going to be late.

Watching a student try really hard and being inspired.

A ripe avocado.

Waking up feeling rested.

A really good, satisfying deuce.

Practice.

My favorite song.

A lot of my time right now is going into the livingmysore.com project. Its a bit stressful getting all the wording right and making sure the intention is clear, etc. I'm finding pockets of time for practice. I was very proud of myself for turning down a sub teaching opportunity because it would have interfered with my practice schedule. Part of my things to do before I die list is to learn how to say "no". Another part of my list is to really follow through with something I believe in...

Right now I believe that I can stand in line at 3am Friday morning to get a deeply discounted laptop. Now I have never done anything like that, but another part of my list is to try everything once! ...Elbows ready!

Recently viewed: The Fountain. Verdict: I liked it. Very interesting, visually.

Recently ate: Greek Yogurt. Verdict: Why have I never heard of this before? Wow!

Back on the mat

I admit, this week was hard on my asana practice. I taught too much, the balance was off, and today was the only day I could get a "full" practice in. I've got to learn to say "no" in a very serious way. I guess I haven't seen quite enough Oprah yet.

I feel so much better today. As hard as it was to roll out that mat and get started, I feel amazing.

Someone said that someone said that they thought they experienced the spiritual through their body. Funny that we need to be reminded. Funny how I never feel more alive than when I see my own blood or feel physical pain. If I experience life through my body, what is happiness? Is it body first and then mind or the other way around or does it vary? What happens when my body is exposed to cold? To heat? I read recently that the body takes 20 minutes to get out of the "flight or fight" instinct. Tonight I'm teaching a restorative yoga class. Subbing the class. I wonder what is really happening.

RECENTLY LISTENED TO: Matt McCluer & Kathryn Jensen / She's a Revolution

RECENTLY VIEWED: 24 Hour Party People

RECENTLY GRIPED: See how much your bank really charges for foreign transactions. Each India atm withdrawal cost me about $10 plus $5 from my bank. Seriously.

5am

Its very different waking before the sun to teach rather than practice. That early, I'm thinking only about myself and my own silly little needs. I think of how uncomfortable I am and how, well, everything makes me feel fragile when compared to being tucked into my cozy loft bed until sleeping has exhausted me. This has been the new routine. Wake up, teach, sleep, practice, eat. with slight variations. This week has been teach, teach, teach. Some days and even weeks are like that.

Sipping my tea I watched my favorite student practice. He's older, and slimy from sweat. He's very stiff and hasn't quite figured out how to finesse the ujjayi, but he is amazing. He comes in every day and does his practice. He tries so hard, despite his physical limitations. He shows up and he tries. Whenever I see him practice, it makes me smile.

After the morning class, I get back on the train to head home to sleep. I look around at all the grumpy little New Yorkers yawning, sleeping, a whole riff-raff of dirty coats and work boots that always take up two seats. I am wedged between two oversized jackets and I manage to swallow down the panic just long enough to notice that the guy next to me is breathing. I can see his coat slowly rising and falling and I notice that without knowing it or attempting to do so, I have matched his breathing pattern with my own. This completely throws me off, of course, and so I purposefully change my breathing pattern and continue reading my library book.

just be there

you just have to show up, thats all.

john says this every once in a while and it seems to punctuate our conversation in just the right way.

I am avoiding showing up to this practice of daily writing. I'm not sure why. Part of it is that I am afraid of becoming a bad sitcom spin-off. Maybe its the weather. New York after Daylight Savings. Hmmph.

I saw "Darfur Now". I've read a few books. I'm teaching regularly and just taught a workshop. I'm practicing every day. I'm eating tasty food. I'm doing so much but I feel like I am paralyzed and cannot sit down at all.

But I showed up dinnt I ?

yoga shoes

You can tell a lot about a person by the shoes that they wear. "Where they've gone, where they're going..."

I'm walking down the street and all I see are New Yorkers covered with fall garb. Peacoats. Shawls. Boots. Leg warmers. Wool hats and scarves. Nowhere do I see light hoodies like I am wearing. Nor do I see calf-length leggings or flip-flops.

In Mysore, I remember how shocked I was to see a friend leaving. It wasn't that they were leaving, so much as there was something different, something changed. Shoes! They were wearing white, closed-toe sneakers! After days and days of seeing and feeling nothing but lightly sandaled feet, it was as if they had been living a lie and their true nature, their alter-ego was revealed to me for the first time.

Now here I am in New York, the only one wearing flip flops. It got progresively colder that day, so that every time I went outside, I wore another layer, until, at the end I gave in and put on a pair of "shoes". By this time, the bottoms of my feet were bruised from all the walking (thanks to the life a freelance yoga teacher), and by the very end, I had cuts on my achillis tendons. The next day, I hobbled everywhere, and the sandals went back on, but this time, I wore the chacos. They are orthopedic.

A friend from Mysore is in town now, and we laughed when we both looked down and saw the other wearing closed-toe shoes.

Fly out of that nest, bird, fly!

Everyone is asking me two things.

1. How was it (India)?

2. What's it like being back [with widening eyes]?

India was India. What else can I say? There were cows.

Being back is like jumping into a pot of hot water.

I'm practicing at home. I feel like if there is one thing I've learned about practice, it is how to be self-sufficient. They give you a pose and you practice it. There aren't any therapeutic massage adjustments or pep talks or in depth discussions on where you should focus, etc. Here is a pose, now practice. And I am. Every time I roll out my mat, its me. Its the same me that rolled out that mat at the Shala in Mysore. People said that it would be hard to practice on my own after being in Mysore, but I really couldn't see myself doing it any other way right now. Plus, rent is due and pay checks are pending.

In Mysore, I learned how to stand on my own two feet. Or, to put those feet behind my head, hold my leg up in utthita hasta, drop back myself, and practice like I mean it.

The Movie Life

It has been two weeks since Mysore and I'm nestling back into New York City life.

I'm baking, reading, walking around looking at tall buildings while listening to saxophones in cafes.

I haven't gotten out of the city because living in a movie is too intoxicating.

Yesterday at a studio's "teacher meeting", I sat in a circle with other teachers and staff. We filled out questionnaires and shared them with the group. One woman said that she always talked about leaving the city because she loves nature so much and here all you get are house plants and house mice. But once she was standing amongst the trees she realized that what she missed were all the people.

Drop Dead

Since returning from Mysore/the mountains of California, my entrance strategy has been to stay as soft as possible. I think of drunk driving and how the driver doesn't often get badly injured because they are so relaxed, there is no resistance. That's me. Walking the path of least resistance down the streets of New York.

Its around 8am. I just taught my first class of the day, and am softly filing into a subway car. I feel a stead round of pointy jabs in my arm. I ask the stooped old man next me if that is really necessary, the elbowing me in the side. He tells me to "drop dead". I laugh out loud.

I am equal parts drowning and rising to the surface in a body of thick blue water.

A few days earlier, that same train was delayed. It stood in the station long enough for people to start making eye contact with each other. Some one did drop dead, sort of. They had an epileptic seizure on the platform. Were people running to help, to watch, or to find a different mode of transport to get to wherever they were going?

In the works

Still wrapping up mysoremusings...

Hopefully, I'll get writing tomorrow.

Epilogue: One Week Later

I'm sitting in a chair. Really, a chair. Everywhere, there are chairs. I ask myself, every few hours, "Is this culture shock?" Or alternately, "Is this jet lag?"

I was walking through a food co-op in San Francisco. Aisles and aisles of organic food. Bulk food bins with every kind of rice, every kind of gluten-free wheat alternative you can think of. A woman was pushing her daughter in a stroller, reassuring her every few minutes, "Its okay, you're with Mommy...Its okay they aren't real." I looked up and saw that the little girl was sulking away from the Halloween decorations that spilled over the tops of the shelves. I knew how she felt. So much. There's just so much.

I stood at the edge of a cliff, looking over the edge for a long time before I finally said, "That's it! I'm doing this!" and jumped into this journey to India. It wasn't that I was scared, as much as I just had no idea what to do or how to do it. Anywhere I looked, I found no roads, and all those who had blazed the trail before me were keeping its secrets to themselves. "You'll figure it out," they told me. 

What finally gave me the kick in the pants was thinking about my life, thinking about how nothing is permanent, and realizing that the chance to practice with the aging teacher would never come again. I had to do it. I had to go. It was one of the best decisions I've made.

Reading over my blog entries, I've laughed, cowered with embarrassment, and smiled at the me that embarked on the trip and the me sitting in this cafe. This has been one amazing journey, and I am so happy to have been able to share my experience here through Mysore Musings.

I had never read a blog before this trip, and it took some convincing to get me to start one up. I never thought anyone would read it and I didn't and still don't have any idea what I am doing. And still, each time I sat down, I wrote from my heart, and the next day, I was surprised and pleased to find that people were reading. I've met and received support from so many people through this blog. It has been amazing to feel the sense of community that has surrounded this project, and I look forward to doing something like this again.

I am, for now, closing this blog. I feel like it is time to open a new chapter, and I look forward to my next project, ashtangainspired. This new project will look at life starting from the mat, while exploring a path less travelled. Or something like that. Me, Yoga, New York City, Life, and Everything in between...

I'm also working with some people on launching an online Mysore Yoga community. This is going to be an amazing resource for ashtanga people in Mysore and around the world. It will feature a local Mysore community board for posting for roommates, ride shares, trades, and other local info. The board will also have an area to post and find yoga-related jobs and volunteer work around the world. The board should be up and running shortly. We're also publishing an online ashtanga mag written by voices from the ashtanga community. Your comments, questions, and suggestions are more than welcome. Additionally, we are looking for pictures of you practicing for our site, as well as article submissions.  We aim to launch the website by November 1st!

Thank you for reading, writing, and helping me along the way. Mysore has been an amazing experience, and I look forward to returning soon!

Lokah Samastah Sukino Bhavantu
May all beings be happy and free

The End

I've taken a week to reflect (a little) on possible endings, yes, endings, for this blog.

Romantic

I enjoyed a long, leisurely breakfast surrounded by a circle of new and old friends. We ate fresh, hot muesli, curd, dosas. We ate fruit salads of every variety. We ate two different types of eggs. We had fresh milk and tea. We sat around a large wooden table on soft floor cushions, stretching our beings, trying to learn how to soak up small moments in time. The car arrived outside. It was white. Cars are usually white. And because it wasn't a rickshaw, I knew it was for me. As I waved goodbye, a light switched off inside of me, and I turned to look ahead to the road to come.

I slept the whole ride to the airport. I walked to the Kingfisher counter. I stared at the woman asking me for a ticket. She kept saying it and saying it and saying it and I kept not giving it to her.

The light turned back on.

"Actually," I said. "Can I change my ticket?"

I've never missed a flight and I've never tried to rearrange a ticket. For me, I start cooking a meal, I cook the meal, and then I eat it. But this time I was surprised to find how easy it was to just stop cooking. A friend recently told me about this San Fran mouse that can jump like 12 feet and mid air, turn 90 degrees. That's me. Born the year of the rat.

So this rat turned 90 degrees away from the USA. This rat jumped back into India.

Expected

I sat in the car going to the airport. I was amazed to find that I was at the exact limit of permit luggage weight (25 kilos). The plane took off and I was in a daze. I landed in Mumbai. The plane took off and I was in a daze. I landed in New York. I had no keys to my apartment. I had 25 kilos of luggage. I had jet lag. So, I went to practice.

I didn't know exactly where Eddie's was, but somehow, managed to navigate my way to the unmarked, second floor studio. My body buzzed from lack of sleep, airport funk, 24 hours of unused muscles, and the adrenaline of the "fight or flight" instinct surging through my veins as my body shifted from one side of the world to another, from one culture to another, from one teacher to another. And in that torrent of energy, I practiced. My body carved the air and I could feel the boundary where New York met the cloud of Mysore surrounding me.

Cop-out

As the car drove further and further from the place I've called home for the past few months, I thought of all the people I've met, all the things I've seen, all the things I've learned. I saw the landscape outside the car as if it were the first day again. I tried to pick out the things I was fascinated with on that first ride. As my eyes jumped from one thing to the next, I slowly drifted to sleep.

My eyes began to flutter open. I could see someone rolling out their mat to the right of me, and someone else beginning to walk away on my left. I arched my neck and moved to see the clock on the wall behind my head. I struggled to read what it said. "No, really?" I asked myself. I had been asleep for an hour. I sat up on my mat. There was one last person finishing up in the front of the Shala in New York.

I was so excited about my upcoming trip to Mysore that I had dreamt about it during what was supposed to be post-practice rest (savasana).

What is real? Maybe a little of all of them, maybe none of them. I have to keep a little of this magic to myself...

:)

My last class, my last day

I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream, interrupted. Was that really my alarm? Did I really have to get up? Just as I was convinced that ignoring the blaring sound and journeying back into dreamland was a viable option, something inside said, "Wake up! This is your last class!" I'm not sure, but I can probably say that as I turned to roll out of bed and switched off the alarm, I was making the grouchiest, most pained expression I was capable of. Sometimes I wish I had a hidden camera. I'm such a clown. I'd see myself and think, "Oh no, really?"

I did all my morning rituals, just the same as before. I trotted to class, avoiding eye contact, eyes burning to stay open, just the same as before. I fidgeted on my mat until Saraswati walked in to start class, just the same as before. And when she started the chant, I could hear and feel the vibration of the room, just the same as before, but this time, I realized that it wasn't forever. That, tomorrow, I wouldn't be here standing in this spot, listening to this chanting, feeling the breeze from that window. I realized that even when I wasn't here, someone else would be in this spot, and the chanting would still go on, just the same as before. For a brief moment, I could feel the presence of all the people in the room, and then all the people that had been in that room since I arrived in July, and then all the people who had ever been in that room, and then all the people who ever practiced with Guruji, and then Guruji practicing with Krishnamacharya...I know that there is no question, I have to come back, and me and Mysore, well, we'll be waiting for each other.

As for my last practice, it felt like my first day in that I was hyper aware that something was special, and different, and deserved really being paid attention to. I noticed how at once, my body was so tired and also so ready for anything. I noticed how my body has changed. I'm much stronger than before, and my body shape has developed accordingly. Some poses are a little harder than before, such as hands down in prasarita c, because of all the new muscles in my upper body. In the last three months, my strength has really developed, but my flexibility hasn't changed dramatically. I think that part of this is because I don't really get any adjustments, and that extra push is often going to take you deeper into something that you might otherwise just stay comfortable in.

I've learned so much practicing with the family and living in Mysore about myself, people, and the world. I feel like I was in a life rehab program and I'm about to step out the front door to see if anything really changed, or if the developments of the past few months will fall away from me like post-it notes when the sticky wears off.

I feel happy. I feel content. I feel like I have direction, and love, and friends, and family, and good health. I feel like the astrologer was right. That all the cards are there, we just have to be brave enough to play them. And I think that I can and I will and I think that I'm so glad that I made it out here at all. I think that if you have that spark somewhere inside you, that little voice that says, "I wonder...", you should listen. I think you should go for it, because it will change your world.

I'm taking a car from Ganesh at Anu's at 1pm this afternoon to the Bangalore Airport. From there, I fly to Mumbai/Bombay where I catch my overnighter to New York City!

"Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first." --As spoken by Tina on Friday at our cooking class.

Things that fly

I could hear a rattle outside my window this morning and it wasn't the scratching of those Indian brooms on the cement. I tried to ignore it, but couldn't. I inched to the side of the bed and reached over to move aside the blinds. A dragonfly was stuck between the window and the mosquito screen. What I heard was the sound of a creature reaching for a chance to live, or rather not to die. I let go of the blinds and fell back into bed. It would find its way on its own. It didn't. The sounds were fading as the poor creature was slowly losing strength. I reached over again, lifted the screen, and pushed the window open. The dragonfly that was lying prone on the ledge was out the window in an instant.

I spent the day with friends at the salon getting everything on the menu that I possibly could manage. It felt like the right way to perform the ritual of leaving.

I remember when I first arrived in Mysore that I was in awe over how many butterflies I saw everywhere. Really, they were everywhere. I hadn't noticed their abundance until recently when the everyday became extraordinary again. As I waited at the gate this morning for Petra, I watched as a little green caterpillar inched across the ledge toward my chin, which was resting on one end of the gate. He had feet in the back and feet in the front and seemed to be in a great hurry.

I feel myself clinging to the warmth of this place, the safe chrysalis that I've slowly grown inside. At the same time, I'm filled with the anticipation of knowing that tomorrow I'm going to fly away.

Tomorrow morning is my last class here in Mysore, and in many ways, it feels like its going to be the first.

Last days

Remember the nineties? Do you remember those little glass containers filled with colorful oil and water that you would turn upside down to watch as one changed places with the other? And then when they successfully divided, and all was calm in that little world, you would turn it over to watch the chaos unfold once more? When I first arrived in Mysore, my life in New York slowly drifted away. I tried to cling onto a few pieces like my boyfriend, being vegan. Others I had to let go. Now, as I inch towards climbing into that car to the airport, my mind is slowly letting more and more of my life in New York back in. It seems very clear right now that I am here, not there. I've come full circle. I'm smelling all the smells again, hearing every scraping broom, looking for the details, so that I can pack them with me as I go. I think that maybe I'll realize that I'm trying to pack too much and that I'll never be able to fit Saraswati in my overhead carry on. Maybe I've become a little part of this place, and in that way, it will be easy to pack, because it is me.

Saraswati taught a really beautiful led class this morning. Some days you feel whatever it is that could hold you back, but you just keep going. You don't listen to it, you just breathe, you just move, and even though it feels like it, you don't die. For a moment, you realize that. You realize that you can do it, that what you're feeling is just that--a feeling. You watch in amazement as you do all the things that you couldn't do three months ago (or what about 3 years ago?), the things you thought were so far out of reach. You notice how much you've grown, how strong you've become, and how you (in a way) always were. You see the faces and the glow of all the people just arriving and you smile to yourself because you know they are in for one hell of a journey.

Today I've talked Tina into doing one last cooking demo/lunch for me. I'm treating it as my going away fete. Tomorrow and Sunday I'd rather not be stressing about putting together the social event of the season, so I thought this would be great. Tina organizes her kitchen so that there is the main table where she cooks, with chairs set up so that we can watch. I think of it as the Food Network live. She tells you about the spices and cooking techniques. She tells you about history and customs. And then, when you feel like you can't take it anymore, the smells have you so intoxicated you feel like you might go out of your mind, she hands you a sample that she set aside just for that moment. This goes on for more than an hour-Tina working up your appetite and then feeding you a little just at your breaking point. This culminates with a delicious feast that leaves you completely incapacitated for the next few hours. I love that woman.

The smell of Mysore

Today was my last Mysore class. I wondered what I would remember from this trip. How the morning smelled like burning sugar. How a cockroach walked toward the kitchen, stopped when it noticed me, and then continued on its way. How my shoulder felt in ankle grabbing--like the whole world was tied in a knot next to my left ear. The way I feel like I'm walking on air when I step out of the shala, and then get a little nervous of falling down the stairs. The ugly dog that hangs outside of the shala, and how I avoid it as I walk up the hill toward my house. How lying in my bed after practice, I drift off to a half-sleep where the sounds of birds become like voices and I wake up feeling like I should know the words. Or even if I could put the feeling of getting used to a new pose into a jar: the wave of sensation that lingers over the body as it adjusts to the new challenge.

I am not sure if I'm getting a little sick or if I caught some back bend fever. Yes, this really happens. After intense back bends you get sick for about 24 hours with flu-like symptoms and then you're good as new. I've gone through it a few times in my life as an ashtangi. I feel like maybe it is happening again. I feel super tired and drowsy, my back is sore, everything is achy, my throat scratches. A friend told me that she actually went to the doctor for this and he told her that this was as very real diagnosis and that it happens because the muscles in the back have a huge spasm. Sometimes this spasm around the spine is so big, that it affects the nerves and this could effect the immune system.

We said goodbye to Pete yesterday, who had been here for about a year. He was the last person who has really been here the whole time that I have. Its easy to get very close to people here. It is like dog years or summer camp. Its this violent explosion of relationships that last for a week or a month or sometimes just one special day. It seems strange to paint the picture of this place in my mind without the people that I have met in it. I can understand how it is very hard for the people who really live here long term. All the time it is like the ghosts of the people you were close with are always floating in the air, just beyond your reach. Their house hovers in the direction you remember, but the weight of knowing the emptiness weighs on your heart. It is so amazing to me how you can come here knowing no one, and leave with a network of friends smiling as they wave goodbye.

I still have four days here in Mysore and two more led classes with Saraswati. I'm slowly crossing things of my Mysore to-do list, and also deciding that some of the things aren't really important to do. Mostly I'm just being here and totally in awe of this crazy life as I look down to my feet, through the earth, and imagine myself and everyone I know standing on the other side.

Ramblings

Yesterday I had a Thali lunch with John in the city center. It was a restaurant inside this hotel that reminded me of a hospital. I can't remember the name at the moment, but it started with the letter "D" and is quite popular. (It is called Dash Prakash...thanks Jody!) A thali meal is kind of like a chinese pu pu platter in that it consists of a variety of different dishes for you to try. In the more traditional variation, the meal will be spread on a banana leaf (like at Guruji's birthday party), but most of the time (for me at least) it has been served on a metal tray. I love these trays! Sometimes they are round and about the size of a pizza (like at 6 Main) with a bowl of rice in the middle surrounded by small cups filled with curd, and a few other soupy treats, a sweet treat, pickles, and a few pieces of bread. Other times the metal tray is rectangular with geometric compartments for each part of the meal. At this restaurant, we had the circular tray.



The real clincher, however, is that you are supposed to eat this meal with your hands! there is a spoon tucked into either the curd or the sweet dessert (but not always, as in the case with Guruji's Birthday) that you can steal to use for the rice and "sambars", or you can do it "Indian style". First, you dump the bowl of rice onto the center of the plate, then you dump some of the soup stuff on that. Then you plunge your fingers into this soupy mess, squish it together and toss it into your mouth. You have to get used to the feeling of wetness and pieces of rice lingering on your skin. It takes time. You also have to get used to watching other people eat...I'm still working on it. I still have a few minutes of shock before I can actually dive into the meal and be okay with it.



This restaurant was fascinating, it was so dynamic and fast-paced, it was great just to watch the organized chaos. You paid at a counter before you sat down, then you sat wherever you wanted, even at a table with people you don't know. You wait a couple minutes, maybe go and wash your hands, and before you know it you see these men wearing what look like veteran or GI uniforms bringing stacks of silver trays out of the kitchen. They bring you yours and your meal begins.

There was a hair in my food. A small one. I still ate the meal without a thought. One's view towards food changes after being here. For instance, once people get into it, they tend to prefer eating their meals with their hands. They say that it increases the awareness that they have of their food. It also helps develop a connection with the meal, instead of the metal or plastic utensil acting as an intermediary.

I got two poses today: Bhekasana and dhanurasana. Bhekasana means frog pose (see the above pic). In this pose you are lying on your belly with your legs bent so that your heals are moving to the floor just outside your hips. Your elbows face behind you as your hands press your feet toward the floor. At the same time, your chest lifts and back arches as you look toward the tip of your nose.

Dhanurasana means bow. Still on the belly, the legs bend as you hold the outside of your ankles. Then everything comes off the floor.

This is the part where I am glad I have a yoga rug. I never understood why people used them until I started second series. Doing a bow once in a while is one thing, but doing it every day really starts to wear on my hip bones. Also, I was dealing with a little back "kink" that made moving pretty unbearable, so doubling up the mat for all those rolling postures in primary became essential. (Before the "injury" I could practice full primary on the wood floor with no problem.)


So today we are saying goodbye to Pete who has been here for a year. Its going to be hard. But he said we'll say goodbye "Indian style". That is, we look at eachother and say, "okay bye". We're meeting at 6 Main for lunch and I am hyped to get my favorite meal: North Indian Thali.

Growing pains

My body is so sore. I just want to spend the whole day horizontal. But when I stop moving, all the muscles, bones, and organs begin to settle and the aching begins to crawl through my skin. I look in the mirror now and I feel like a brand new person.

The changes have happened gradually, of course, but they've happened. I'm stronger physically, and I've noticed that mentally there have been a lot of shifts as well. I feel like I have a strong sense of direction and mental clarity. My practice is different. How I look at life is different. My dreams when I sleep are different. My feet are different. My appetite and digestion are different.

I feel like I've cleaned house and noticed all the wonderful, terrible, and interesting things I have that were either tucked under something else or covered by layers of dust.

I feel at once frightened and excited to go back. Part of me cannot wait for the journey ahead, and the other part is so comfortable with the lifestyle here that it never wants to leave.

My friend, Michael, went home two days ago. I think I had asked him how he felt. He said that most people are very sad when they leave and live their "normal" life again because they leave Mysore behind. He said that wouldn't happen to him because he is going to take Mysore with him.

I cant predict what will happen with me exactly, but I do know that for a long time, I'll be able to smell Mysore radiating from me and that over time the smell won't fade, I'll simply become used to it.

When I go swimming, I usually stick my toes or finger into the water first to see just how cold this will feel on my body. I cringe and then slowly inch myself in, ugly faces all the way. But that day I saw the water and I just jumped. As I sat, dripping on my towel, my friend turned to us and said, "I don't know how you guys just jump in like that." I lied down on my chair and smiled to myself. For just a moment, in this very small way, I truly felt that anything is possible.

India made me fat

"I got fat in India?!" My jaw drops. I look from one face to another, hoping for some reassurance. I find none.

Go back about one month. I am sitting on the floor with Pete, who has just arrived. I turn to him.

"Pete, I am going to ask you something. I know you're not going to like it and you're going to think I'm weird, but I want you to be completely honest with me," he looks at me perplexed, I look down to the floor. I can't believe I already put this out there, without stopping myself in time. "Pete, seriously now, you see me every day. Have I gotten fatter?" His eyebrows raise, I can feel the panic and dread start to rise. He thought more of me before this moment. "I'm serious, I'm not being silly, but I really feel like I have and I just want to know if I'm crazy or not."

"You're crazy," he says. I can't figure out if he is being honest or if this is the natural reflex of a 30+ year old man who has been asked this very same question over 1,000 times since he was 12 years old. "You aren't fat and you haven't gotten fatter." The timing of his answer was somewhere between trained reaction and contemplation. I couldn't tell if he was serious.

"I think you've gotten skinnier," Petra says.

"No way," I counter. I don't believe them and I feel embarrassed to have asked. I can sense the question hovering in the air long after they've forgotten my insecurities.

Go back fifteen years. I am about seven years old, maybe younger. I am walking around the edge of the Paradise Hills community pool. It is a clear, sunny, summer day. I can still smell the chlorine and the thick air of the locker rooms with slick floors decorated with fallen hairs and the toilets with wet seats. I can hear the water slide and the loud splash as each child is flung out the end into the water. I am walking around the pool toward something I cannot remember. I am thinking something I cannot remember. A group of boys not much older than myself are walking towards me.

"Why do you think you can wear something like that?" One asks as he points to me and snickers to another who is laughing. I look down to see what he is pointing at. I'm wearing a little bikini. Maybe it is pink.

"Your belly sticks out!" Another says. this could have been the end of the conversation, this could have been the beginning. I don't remember. What I do remember is that I had no idea that my body was not okay until that moment, at an age consisting of a single digit, with the round belly of a healthy child.

I'm standing in the small room with the tailor, his wife, and two friends. I decided to have a couple of shirts made before I left India.

"You have old measurements?" I ask the tailor's wife. The tailor had just finished measuring me while she recorded the results. She was now thumbing through the pile of old measurements trying to find the receipt of a friend's commission made two months ago ( I am trying to recreate this same shirt). She doesn't answer. I ask again. She finds the measurements for the shirt I had made in July.

"Bust three inches...waist one inch...hips two inches...shoulders same," he says all this with a smile and head wobble. I look to my friends who are laughing. I finally close my mouth. Was it hanging open or was I laughing?

"No way!" We all seem to be saying. He takes out his measuring tape once more and measures my arm.

"Half inch arm," we are all laughing now. He adds, "Height same." My eyes are wide. I'm somewhere between hysterics and tears. I keep laughing. Is it forced?

"I got fat in India?!" My jaw drops. I look from one face to another, hoping for some reassurance. I find none.

Did I really get fat in India? I don't know. Maybe I gained more muscle. Maybe I gained more fat. Everyone seems to agree that the tailors usually measure loose. They don't want to get too close to your body (especially when the tailor is a man) and you have to really convince them that you want something tighter, or shorter, or more low cut, or sexy.

Here in Mysore, the women look beautiful. They wear long flowing saris, or these long, thigh length blouses with pants and beautiful scarves. Everything is loose and flowing (except the sleeves which, as a rule, are always tight as a drum). You see these women and the grace with which they all carry themselves from the upper class woman in silk to the woman gathering garbage in beautiful vibrant green and purple.

So the first few days in India, you decide to integrate Indian pieces into your wardrobe. Nothing fits right. Everything is up to your neck and too long and boxy. You feel like you're wearing something somewhere between a mumu and a hospital gown. You buy these things anyway, of course.

Later that evening we (my two friends from the tailor and I) are sitting around the living room getting ready to watch the L Word.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks. "What's wrong?" Its about an hour after we visited the tailor.

"You know," I say as I flop back onto the cushion, my eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you think its because we were raised in America?" She asks.

"Yes," I reply quickly. No one says anything.

In India, having a little extra weight is a sign of good health and prosperity. A friend told me that she was talking to her cleaning lady who told her that she had never tasted a fruit before because they were too expensive. She only ate rice, chapati, curd, and dhal (I think). You'll notice that generally, those of the lower classes are thin and those of the upper are heavier. But those of the upper class who can afford to be exposed to western culture and lifestyle are thinner.

Something else you'll learn in month two or maybe three is that "people go crazy when your hair is down and especially if it is curly," as my friend says. I hadn't noticed up to that point, but all the women indeed had their hair in long braids or ponytails. There was very little variation. I don't really understand why this is. My friend went on to explain how when they see your hair like this, they don't know what to do. "Not even the police will touch you." He adds.

This morning in practice I felt light and strong. Some days you really connect with yourself during practice and this was one of them. It was "steady and sweet". I didn't feel heavier or that I was moving more weight around, despite the information to the contrary.

Yesterday Pete and I walked into the Badsha by the big vegetable market so he could buy gifts for family. Our friend Shoab works there and he greeted us happily at the door. The first thing he says is, "You have gotten so skinny!" I turn to him and laugh. I look at Pete and he's laughing (he already heard the tailor story). I give Shoab the abbreviated version. He replies with a smile, "I guess we always think the ones we love are too skinny because we worry about their health."

The tailor's wife is quiet. In the midst of all the hysterics, I think she said, "but those original measurements were for the tight shirt..."

A confession: I slept in

It had to happen eventually, I suppose.

I remember setting my alarm last night. I remember waking up half way through to talk to my boyfriend in the US. I remember I could not get back to sleep. I remember hearing an alarm. I remember hitting snooze. And yet somehow, when I woke up, it was 5:15 and my alarm was set for 12.

I didn't believe it. But there are no other clocks in the house to reference, so I embraced the wave of shame and then went back to bed. I could have stayed awake and practiced on my own (and I still might sometime today), but since I didn't, I'm remembering how incredibly difficult it is to have the motivation to do a regular home practice.

I've met quite a few people here who are from places around the world where there is no ashtanga teacher and home practice is their only option. It is so incredibly inspirational to me to see their practice because it is built on nothing else but their own inner strength. Yes, it takes effort to get up an hour earlier so that you can take the subway or drive to class before work, but it is something totally different when there is no one waiting for you except yourself. You've got to peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, not because you paid for a card, or because your teacher will think less of you, or because you might get a pose, but because that's what you do. Because you know its time to practice and that is it. Because you are keeping your word to yourself.

For my own piece of mind, there is also strength in being able to let go. I remember that my teacher used to talk about learning to be soft and compassionate towards ourselves. When I first heard this I was like, "what kind of flowery, hokey, sentimental bullshit is this?" and "can we get on with the poses?" Really, that's what I thought. But she explained that she is usually really hard on herself, getting mad when she didn't do something "perfect" or setting unrealistic goals. It was then that I realized that she was also talking about me.

That is the challenge, isn't it? Learning that we are not our own worst enemy and to make friends with ourselves. Yet, at the same time balancing the compassion and softness with courage and strength instead of self-loathing disappointment.

No horse is better or worse than any other even though most people want to be the best horse. And who can blame us? The worst horse looks very impressive. But, why not have the courage to look inside and see who we truly are. Why not have the strength to be okay with whatever we find? As Pema Chodron explains:

"What I have realized through practicing is that practice isn't about being the best horse or the worst horse. It's about finding our own true nature and speaking from that, acting from that. Whatever our quality is, its our wealth and our beauty; that's what other people respond to."

I feel like it is entirely possible that there is no afterlife, no reincarnation, no heaven or hell, and when you die you are simply dead and that is it. It is entirely possible that the lives that we are now living are the full expressions of our existence. I feel like the sooner we are honest with ourselves about who we truly are, the sooner we can live to our full potential. I feel like our whole lives should be rich and full like we were living the "one year to live meditation".

I realize this seems unrealistic to most, but I see more and more that it is exactly what people are asking for. From dream job coaching to self help books. Counseling to xanax. Pain relievers to pain seekers. Are we really trying to numb ourselves, to check out, to sleep? Or are we all trying desperately to wake up?

Confession: Yes, I slept in today. Ooops. And now everyone knows. I am okay with it.

Life as a prayer

I watch the news in the morning after my practice and nap. There was footage of protests at the UN in New York City. At the Millennium Summit in 2000, 192 countries agreed to 8 "Millennium Goals" to achieve by 2015. One of these was to eradicate extreme poverty and hunger. Unsurprisingly, they haven't made much of a dent as a protester noted, "every three seconds someone dies of hunger". Of HUNGER. Of not having enough to eat. Of not having enough nutrients from what they are eating.

At breakfast I had 3 whole meal rotis, sauteed vegetables, a banana soy milk smoothie, a spirulina drink, half a fruit salad, and a cup of hot water. I prayed over my meal.

The things that we see and the things that we don't.

In the book I am currently reading, Shantaram, the main character is amazed as he watches men taking barrels of water up the stairs of his hotel. He stands to the side as they take one barrel after another. His tour guide explains that the water from the shower comes from a tank on the roof and that these men are filling the tank. Upon hearing this, he felt incredibly guilty because he was taking three showers a day. So when he told the guide that he was vowing to not shower for the rest of his stay, he was surprised when the guide told him that he didn't understand and that it was a "people-job". It is because of the tourists that these men had a job. "You should have three showers, four showers, even five showers every day..." And as he watched the men go about their work, he began to notice how much strength they had, how proud they were of the work they did, and how favorably the ladies reacted to their presence.

As I tugged at the latch on our front gate, the moon caught my eye. I can't always see it here as it is usually quite low. But at 4:45 am, it was right in front of me, nestled between a house and a tree. It was full and bright and almost creamy like a piece of cheese. The outline faded into the sky so that a haze surrounded the bright, glowing moon. I nodded my chin so as to say my respective "hello", and turned to walk down the street to the shala.

When Sharath was here, the Shala was full of people, a sea of mats organized along huge floor rugs. Now the shala is a huge room full of floor rugs with mats scattered throughout. There are trains on the middle rug. Trains like "choo choo". Ever notice that?

I was amazed today when I received a supta kurmasana adjustment from Saraswati today. That is practically unheard of if you can bind on your own. (Binding means crossing your legs over your head AND reaching your arms underneath your thighs, wrapping them around your back, AND clasping the opposite fingers/hand/wrist). See pic of supta k on right...

On the back of Petra's bike, my gaze slowly drifted up to the sky (staring up at the sky is just about the best thing to do when you are sitting on the back of a bike). It was so blue. "It is such a beautiful day!" I yelled to Petra. I don't know if she heard me.

Today I'm off to the center with Krista for laughs, smiles, and overall good times...

Tomorrow its led class with Saraswati...

Working your edge

Jason writes:

"u recently spoke about how your teacher would talk about 'working your edge'. Do you have new any insights on how that is done in Mysore style since you have now been in Mysore for a while?"

Response:

I remember once when she said that. She had just gotten back from Mysore. She was darker than before. She was wearing a tank top that was supposed to be tight, but she was so fit it almost looked loose. I remember seeing her arms and being in awe with how fit she was. Before class she told us that she was completely inspired--

No, that's not it. That was a later time that she said it.

Guruji was in New York. She was going every day to practice. It was a vinyasa class and beforehand she told us that she was feeling completely inspired by Guruji being in town. We didn't know what that meant at the moment, but as we moved through sun salutes, she mentioned how you do what you need to do to save energy. So we tried not to fidget in the downward dogs. We tried to use an economy of movement in the vinyasas. Some people would drop their knees and sink their hips back in a child's pose to rest in downward dog.

As we clumsily tried to move with grace, she was asking us to analyze what pain is and to find our edge. (It felt like a class full of hippos trying to do yoga.) What could we work through or past? What could we breathe into? What were we capable of? What was the difference between good pain and bad pain?

Sometimes it feels like there is a line in the sand between those who are flexible, strong, those who seem to easily perform the poses without breaking a sweat and those who struggle and pant and sweat and give up and shake. I remember this line was drawn when she asked us to jump from downward dog, through our arms, to a sitting position. I bawked at this. Everyone in the room did except my friend Susan who is one of those ex-dancer, super fit, beautiful and amazing types. My teacher laughed and asked us to watch as she demonstrated a jump through. She was so light and soft as she floated effortlessly though the air, landing in a seated position with her legs straight in front of her. "How do you know that you can't do this?" She was asking. "Find your edge." She kept saying this, "find your edge?" I kept asking myself what that meant.

(Watch the jump backs and jump throughs in this video. For a second, he his hovering, suspended in the air like a balloon. A Jivamukti teacher once compared the jump throughs and the hovering balloon effect to dance a similar experience in dance. "Ballon [is] the appearance of weightlessness and of being airborne. A dancer is said to have ballon if (s)he seems to be in the air constantly with only momentary contact with the floor.")

This phrase has stayed in my head ever since. Like a mantra, it echoed in the back of my mind when I started to back out of a pose, or to tell myself something was not possible.

It seems funny imagining me being able to find my edge here in Mysore where my practice has been shortened significantly. It seems like it would get boring like I was repeating 5th grade, three times. And on some days, I admit, it was. I would run through my practice, doing the things I was always comfortable with doing. But then, I started to watch other people and to see how far you can take things. The edge means a different thing for everyone. For me, it comes up often in regards to strength. It took me so long to even be able to do a bad chaturanga dandasana (see picture on left). Really, I mean like a whole year. And even then, I was not looking forward to struggling through it.

So here in Mysore, finding my edge was seeing people fly, and being able to believe that it was possible. It was. It is. All I had to do was try and keep trying. And it has been so hard, but for me, that is the edge. How can I make this vinyasa soar? How can I maximize this stretch or this extension? How high can I lift up and how softly can I jump back? How closely can I get to the edge without falling over?

Working just in primary has been ideal for this transformation. I'm comfortable in primary. I feel like I've explored all the nooks and crannies and then discovered that there is a secret passageway leading here or there and there are more nooks and crannies to explore. That's the edge. Being brave enough to follow the passage into the unknown. To be willing to be surprised.

It hasn't just been physical. The edge has also been being able to leave the comfort of daily life to come here in the first place, alone. It has been getting up every morning and not giving up. Finding the edge has been about exploring what I've got inside and opening my eyes even when I don't see what I like.

Ever heard of parkour? I love this quote that describes parkour as "a playground for strength, freedom, courage and discipline". But its also so much about finding the edge of what we think is or isn't possible. Like walking on walls. Or jumping from roof top to roof top.

So, back to the original question: "how have I found my edge in mysore style?" I have made an effort to do everything full-blast, even if I haven't done it before or thought I couldn't. Like literally looking at my nose in nasagrai drishti. Why not? Or trying to work towards (and sometimes succeeding in) jumping back and forth in sun salutes with straight legs. Or lifting up between navasanas with the left leg on top even though its my weak side and I can't lift as high as with the other side. I've been looking for my edge by asking "why not?" and really understanding that here, everything is possible.

I think more and more about what my teacher said about how she came to ashtanga yoga because she wanted to learn how to fly. Finding your edge is about seeing your body and your capabilities and limitations and saying you're going to try anyway. It is about jumping out of the nest and trusting that your wings will work, because that's why you have them. It is about not seeing your body or your past or anything else as a limitation. It is about seeing possibility and making small or big steps toward it. It is about returning to your practice every day and noticing that you have a clean slate and that maybe today will be the day where something impossible will happen.