Monday

Neck deep in the July issue of Living Mysore Magazine.

The waves hit me too hard on Saturday and I'm still pink.  Or maybe it was the sun, but who wants to admit that?

Life's little lessons

Why on earth would I care whether or not my students waited for my count before moving into upward dog from chaturanga?  

I ponder this question in the fallout of the collision between the "yoga class world" and the "real world".  

You see, substitute teaching is the worst, regardless of what subject you teach.  When I explain my distaste to a doe-eyed and bushy-tailed potential sympathizer, I am always met with confusion.  I know, I know, it's just yoga.  How bad can it be?  You tell people what to do, they listen because they want to learn what you are teaching and then we all have a nice savasana and herbal tea at the end.  I admit, some days are like this.  And some days, they really aren't.

Without exhausting the subject, let's just say that substitute teaching a led ashtanga class can be a nightmare.  The worst scenario?  A one-hour lunch hour class through navasana (half primary).  Why?  The class is scheduled at this time to cater to people who work, meaning that people are in "go mode" and you can expect random drop-ins from people with little to no experience with yoga, and definitely not ashtanga.

But it is a "led" class so isn't that better than the self-led "Mysore"?  Wouldn't that be good for beginners to hear what to do?  Maybe in a perfect world.  But this is a class I'm subbing which means that regulars will expect to be led through navasana and the newbies will have no extraneous explanations of what they are supposed to do.  Good luck.

Now remember again that I am subbing, so already the students are suspicious.  Add onto that the fact that I don't fuck around.  Chatvari means chatvari.  And now we are back to the original question of why do I care and why does it matter?

This got me thinking of my Japanese sculpture teacher back in art school.  He walked up to Eric, nodded his head in approval, then raised his hand and proceeded to beat the clay bust with a mallet.  He encouraged us all to do the same with our "masterpieces".  "You want to fire this piece of shit?" He asked the girl he fondly referred to as "Miss Piggy".  Yes, he was mean.  Yes, he was right.  

Beginners are the best students.  They are totally receptive to what you have to say.  You can instantly see the changes in body and mind as they come in quick bursts of intelligence.  They are humble.  They still can laugh.

Advanced students are the best students.  They are totally receptive to what you have to say.  You can see them as they work to integrate the verbal and physical cues into their practice with the intelligence that comes with experience.  They are humble.  They remember to laugh.

It is everyone in between who is hit or miss.  They are like rebellious teenagers who know everything and will never die.  They refuse to slow down for the beginners, they insist on spying and trying what the advanced students are up to, and they firmly believe that everyone in class should have the exact same pace as their breath.

As a teacher, this means a whole lot of pulling the breaks, holding back, curfews, and the moment where you have to decide if it is worth it.  

Option 1:  Just don't look.  Convenient, less exhausting, but hard to do if you care.

Option 2:  Calling them on it.  But you have to be willing to stand your ground.  Stand your ground?  In a yoga class?  Yep.  Sometimes it means saying to a student that if they aren't here to take the class I'm teaching, they need to leave.

This sucks, feels horrible, turns my face pink, makes my ears steam, and generally is not fun.  But--it is these students who usually come back.  Afterwards, I'm exhausted and upset, they are coming up to me saying "great class!"  

Sometimes when I go in to teach class, it feels like we have stepped into an alternate universe and there are no longer people, just samskaras flying around.  Ultimately this is my practice too and the most difficult students and classes are the best teachers. 

I give in

I usually cave about once per year and go along with something which falls under the "chain letter" category.  This might be number 2.  Oh well.

I was tagged to participate in this internet questionnaire.

What were you doing five years ago?

I was a "space nurse" for a gaudy art installation--yuck.  I was also reading in the park.  

What are five things (in no particular order) on your to-do list for today?

Teach yoga class.

Rest.

Chores.

Errands.

Catch up with friends.

What are five snacks you enjoy?

Apples with peanut butter.

Fruit.

Ginger candies.

Sun dried tomatoes.

Protein smoothies.

What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire?

Not worry about not having money...maybe.

Pay off all debts of family and self/take care of family and close friends.

Spend time doing volunteer work.

Donate to a cause I am passionate about.

Not plan a thing.

What are five of your bad habits?

No one wants to know!

What are five places you have lived?

New Mexico

New York 

Florida

The road

What are five jobs that you've had?

Receptionist
Manager

Teacher

Space nurse

Tour guide

Jivamukti (it's not what you think)

Where is freedom located?  

In a country?  A landscape?  In nature?

Is it in my foot?  My head?  My heart?

  

There is something incredibly satisfying about that moment when you see that the final knot you are about to unravel is laughable.  You'll have clean, unhindered string in your hands in a moment so you take a moment to savor all the time and turmoil, all those moments when you wanted to cut away the knots and settle for a shorter piece, before you slowly undo those silly first wrinkles that started it all and liberate the string. 

For a whole year I've been the "Princess and the Pea" about this wrinkle in my body, in my practice.  The imperfect perfect back bend.  The gummy left shoulder.  The ache the pain the sensation the nerves the bones the muscles the emotions the drama the drama the drama.  And then an opening.  A real opening.  There are two kinds of "openings":

1.  Sammy locked himself out of his house.  He pulls on the door handle.  He kicks and he screams.  Maybe he breaks a window and busts in.  Maybe he blows up the whole house, digs through the rubble and holds up the shiny key triumphantly while standing on top of what used to be his stove.

2.  Sammy locked himself out of his house.  He realizes there is no way to open the door without a key.  Yes, maybe he has moments of kicking and screaming, but knows deep down that resistance is futile.  So he waits.  He knows that eventually a roommate will come by or a neighbor who has a key to let him in.  Eventually, someone does show up.  He laughs, feels like an ass, and picks up his key from the dining room table.

My opening was of the second variety.  I had to wait. Like water making the Grand Canyon-- waiting.  No more pain, no more pushing, no more trying.  Just waiting.  And then, today, it happened.  Piggybacking yesterday's physical epiphany, I was there (in "ankle grabbing").  (Keep in mind that this is all relative but...)  Feet were on their way to being parallel, legs were going straight, chest was expanding, elbows drawing together, hands holding back of knees, and then it happened.  It was like someone walked through me.  A cold breezy feeling in the muscles of upper, inner thighs.  A release in tension and a strong circular feeling.  I felt "red" like a fire truck in the sun.  I stood up.  I got it.  I understood it.  This is what it is.  I stood there in shock with a huge, goofy grin plastered on my face.

Before and at the beginning of practice I had a strong sense of joy for life, the world, myself, an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness.  But it was democratic, everything was equal.  I loved the stinky garbage I walked by just as much as I loved the sun on my neck.  I wanted to be single and to change my whole life and experience everything out there (unhindered) in the world because there is just so much to enjoy.  

After practice I had a strong sense of joy for life, the world, myself, an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness.  And in it, everything had its place.  I loved the sticky garbage just as much as I loved the sun on my neck.  I wanted to stay here forever and experience every moment of my little existence because there is just so much to enjoy.

"But I don't want to lose you,"  head shakes and hands wave in the air.  "I'm so comfortable with our life together."

"When you say that, I feel trapped,"  I feel scared.  I feel safe.

Pages slowly peel the days from the calendar.  The pile of belongings grows exponentially behind the chair in the back room.  Practice-drenched clothing dries on the chair.  

A Day in the Life/Running on empty

Seinfeld:  The Dealership

[Setting: Dealership car]

RICK: (Trying to look at the gas gauge) Where is it now?

KRAMER: There’s still some overlap between the needle and the slash below the "E".

RICK: How low are you gonna go?

KRAMER: Oh, I’ve been in the slash many times. This is nothing. You’ll get used to it. Just, (Makes a popping sound) put it out of your mind.

RICK: Have you ever been completely below the slash?

KRAMER: Well, I almost did once, and I blacked out. When I came to, the car was in a ditch, and the tank was full. I don’t know who did it, and I never got to thank them..

RICK: (As the car slowly drifts off the road) Mr. Kramer, the road!

(Kramer swerves around, trying to get back in place)

KRAMER: Whoop! Whoop!

It is 4:27am the alarm is going off.  I feel as broken and bruised as any poor soul with a full day of work ahead and three days of illness behind.  The trick?  No thinking.  Shower.  Clothing.  Keys.  Walk.  Subway.  Stand. Switch.  Stand.  Switch.  Stand.  Walk.  Elevator.  First class of the day.

"Are you doing mula bandha?"  Rachel asks me.

"Huh?"  Did I hear her right?  We are sipping water next to "assisting towels", boxes of tissue, while we sit on the radiator.

"Right now, are you doing mula bandha?"  She repeats.

"Why?  Do I look like a tight ass?"  We both chuckle as much as you can with rings under your eyes.  But its easy to forget the hunger, the sickness, the fatigue, the fight, the drama, when there's a handful of students in front of you, each with his or her own practice, each with his or her little universe unfolding one piece at a time.  

Setting: Dealership car]

(The needle is now below "E". Rick is looking at it)

RICK: Is it just the angle I’m looking from?

KRAMER: No, Sir. We are down there.

RICK: Oh, this is amazing! Oh, I’ve never felt so alive!

KRAMER: All right, I’m satisfied. We better get some gas.

RICK: What? Well, we can’t stop now.

KRAMER: What do you mean?

RICK: We have to keep going - all the way back to the dealership. That was the plan.

KRAMER: There was no plan.

RICK: Well, let’s make it the plan! Let’s just… go for it! Like Thelma and Louise.

KRAMER: What, they drove to a dealership?

RICK: No, they drove off a cliff.

(Kramer eyes Rick, frightened)

KRAMER: You are one sick mama… I like it.

RICK: Mr. Kramer, the road!

(Kramer swerves around again)

KRAMER: Yup! Yup! 

It's my turn now.  Down the stairs.  Walk through the park (I love New York).  Subway.  Sit.  Switch.  Subway.  Sit.  Walk.  Down the stairs.  Kick off Havaianas.  Grab mat.  Practice.  

Still stuffy.  Why do I feel like I need to say it like I have to justify my practice?  Who really cares anyway besides my ego?  (My ego does set some pretty high and often unattainable standards...)  It is day two of amazingly sweaty.  By the end of the Surya Namaskars I'm drenched in sweat.  (This is an event for me because I'm the non-sweater.)  One of the perks of being sick and coming off of it is what it does to the breath.  It has the deep, sultry, thick, hum that I find soothing.  I'm starting to notice the effects of the chest expanding preps I've been working on.

1.  In all day-to-day activities, listening to my Mom and standing up straight with shoulders back.

2.  Making a point of alternating shoulder use for shoulder bag.

3.  "Sucking up" forearms in downward dog.  This is a hard one to explain.  Ask an Iyengar teacher.

4.  Emphasizing all things with expansive qualities such as the "ekam" part of the wide legs standing poses.

5.  Elbows up, fingers send spine forward in parsvottanasana.

6.  Pressing bottom tips of shoulder blades toward heart in heart openers of second series.

7.  Drop backs.  From standing with arms straight up to the sky and dropping straight back from there.

8.  Opening chest in uttana padasana.

9.  Lengthening the inhales (which makes them even to the exhales for me).  

10.  Better leave this blank in case I forgot something.

The results:

1.  Better posture.

2.  Better breathing.

3.  Spacious upward dog.

4.  Kapotasana feels more like a circle and less like a triangle.  Going straight to grabbing heels and now ankles, even on a sick day.  Feeling like there are options in the "b" part of the pose.

5.  Holding knees today in ankle grabbing with almost straight legs, parallel feet, and happy feelings.

6.  All those warm fuzzy emotions that come when you're opening your heart.

[Setting: Gas station]

(Kramer pulls the car into a gas station and gets out)

KRAMER: Cars can go on empty, but not us humans, huh, fella? I’ll get us a couple of Twix bars.

RICK: No, no coconut for me.

KRAMER: All right, I’ll get ya a Mounds bar. Keep the engine running.

(Rick sits back in the car a second, then hurriedly jumps out and reaches for the gas pump. Kramer pops up from behind the pump and scares him)

RICK: Ahh!

KRAMER: No, man! Not the gas!

RICK: But it needs it, Kramer! It needs it bad!

KRAMER: Do you think that this’ll make you happy? ‘Cause it won’t!

RICK: (Walking away) Ah, you can just go on without me.

(Kramer grabs him by the collar)

KRAMER: Listen to me. When that car rolls into that dealership, and that tank is bone dry, I want you to be there with me when everyone says, "Kramer and that other guy, oh, they went further to the left of the slash than anyone ever dreamed!"

(The car makes puttering noises)

RICK: Maybe we better get moving.

KRAMER: It’s good to have you back, Stan.

(Both hop into the car)

RICK: It’s Rick, by the way.

KRAMER: No time! 

I've got pants on and I'm digging through my bag.  Yes, my chest is open.  So open that I'm standing here topless without bra.  

"Here--this is new."  "A" hands me a size "x small" American Apparel see-through triangle bikini top bra.  Its better than nothing.  We all have a good laugh at just how open my chest is.  

Time for breakfast.  Walk.  Bird poops on scarf.  Subway.  Sit.  Walk.  Bus.  Walk.  Stairs.  Home.  Eggs on a pan.  Whole grain freshly baked bread.  Two minutes of The View.  Grab keys.  Back down the stairs.  Walk.  Bus.  Walk.  Blast of AC as I step into the health club.

[Setting: Dealership car] 

(Rick and Kramer are driving back to the dealership)

RICK: (Seeing the turn-off up ahead) There’s the dealer!

KRAMER: Hey!

RICK: We did! We pulled it off! I can’t believe it! Where’s the needle?

KRAMER: Oh, it broke off, baby! Woo, hoo, hoo!

RICK: Oh, Mr. Kramer, I gotta thank you. I - I learned a lot. Things are gonna be different for me now.

KRAMER: Well, that’s a weird thing to say…

RICK: I wonder how much longer we could have lasted.

KRAMER: Yeah, yeah. I wonder… hmm.

(They both eye each other, then lock hands. Kramer slams on the gas, and they both cheer and scream as they drive on) 

20 minutes of reflection and endless list making. Gulps of water.  Teaching class.  "Stay in chaturanga--don't hurry..."  Exit AC.  Walk.  Car skids to a stop a few feet in front of me.  It continues for two blocks going in reverse on a one way.  Teaching class.  "Don't hurry!"  Laughing.  Sweating.  Raining.  Smiling.  Celebrating.  Long walk home.  Bus.  Food.  Cushy couch.  Blog.  Gulps of water.

[Scene cuts to Kramer and Rick. Still yelling, they slowly come to a stop]

KRAMER: Ya-hoo! Ya-hoo! (Rick is silent) Whew! Well, I think we stopped.

RICK: You - you can probably let go of my hand now.

KRAMER: Yeah, yeah. (Getting out of the car) Well, I’ll think about it..

RICK: Do you have my card? 

This is an amazing ride.

Practice when sick: before and after

Before:

I got a full night's rest, did the deed, took a shower, maybe some neti, definitely some chywanaprash even though it doesn't taste so good anymore now that I'm not accustomed to being immersed in Indian flavors.  All this before heading out to practice.  I'm feeling optimistic, but sore, fatigued, tired, and heavy.  Got to keep practice light, easy, and slow today (which is what I tell myself everyday).  Plus it looks like rain.  All this makes me feel like I'm going to be a soggy wet napkin on the floor trying to fold into origami...

After:

Two steps out the front door and I realized that I had remembered the neti (I did it while on the phone with Rachel...it takes a lot of skill not to get the phone wet) but had forgotten the chywanaprash.  Was I sleeping on my walk/subway ride/walk to the shala?  I don't remember putting one foot in front of the other.  I do remember how hot it was and how humid it felt just standing outside the classroom.   Armed with a wad of toilet paper, I stepped in, rolled out my mat, informed Guy I was still a little sick "you can just to primary" he saw my face "but I guess you did come all this way..."  exactly.  It would be slow, but it would be my practice. 

Every move was carefully placed and fragile.  I had a consistent feeling that this time I might break.  I fell into the breathing which, although deep and musical, was uncomfortable at the top of the inhale.  I could feel the tingle of being uncomfortable up my chest, collarbones, neck, until it rested and broke where my gums met my bottom front teeth.  Weird.  My low back ached.  

I didn't have to modify much.  Perhaps the jumps weren't as jumpy or floaty as when I'm feeling 100%, but they were proportional to what I had in me today.  I spent much less time than usual in finishing postures and laid down cringing with a slight headache and head rush by the end.  I rolled up my mat and picked up that now soaked wad of toilet paper and remembered that original prediction.  Yes, I didn't feel much different than the soggy toilet paper in my hand, but I did make some origami.  My body does feels much better now than before.  

Sick! -- The Summer Solstice

This was probably the reason for Friday's awkward practice and rough nap. I'm miserably sick. I couldn't really sleep. Awake/asleep it all feels the same. All I want to do is drive out to the Rockaways and jump into the ocean but the SO is still sleeping and grumbled to me at 6 am that he thought it wasn't the best idea for me. Maybe he is right. The water can be cold out there and the weather won't break 80 today and it is supposed to rain. But I keep going back to that David Williams workshop where he said that when you are sick you should practice a little then jump in the ocean and snort the salt water then go do some more yoga and then do it again. I imagine this hippie jungle man covered in leaved with a stick in his hair running out from the trees into the water and back again. I want that to be me. I want to be sun kissed and tropical with the taste and smell of salt water on my skin with sand collecting in the cuticles of my toenails.

Before the suffering began, yesterday I found myself marking the summer solstice in Times Square with hundreds of other people who were marveling at the notion of being fully reclined in the middle of the madness. I was one of the people walking through the downward dogs trying to explain to this beginner or that the subtleties of knees chest chin or how to straighten the leg in trikonasana. For a few minutes as I stood watching the class, the taxis, the lights, the people, the buildings, the chaos, I felt that warm little feeling that one gets when one connects with how very special this city can be. And I got a shwag bag.

photo link

Friday nap rant

I did it.  After asking myself "okay, what next?", writing out a short to-do list for the afternoon (laundry, grocery, clean dishes, wash hair, email so and so), I pulled the sheets over my head and took a sweet afternoon nap.  That groggy, delicious, fermenting kind of nap. The kind where I dream that I am dreaming and wake up in the dream and push caramels the consistency of Indonesian ginger candies into my teeth.  The kind where my eyes are covered in gravel and I wake up feeling sugary and in need of a shower and washed hair.  I roll (literally) off and down from the bed, pull my hair back, and shuffle to the kitchen to reflect on the day and eat two Indonesian ginger candies.  I don't push them into my teeth.

Practice.  I didn't notice this before, but today, the Manduka was getting in my way.  On Primary days I don't use the rug and so my skin pulled every time it made contact.  In places where I might have slid (gracefully of course), or melted, instead I clung and sometimes suddenly jerked when the skin was let loose and I was taken off guard.  In Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana, my leg wobbled as my foot mushed around the spongey surface.  I felt achy and tight.  Some days are like that.

Heard on the news of a gaggle of teenage girls have formed a pact to get pregnant.  This followed a segment on whether Americans would prefer to spend what little money they have on groceries or gas.  There was also a feature on the dismal possibilities for joining the working world, the staggering number of foreclosures (sell now and take WHATEVER price someone will give you), the obesity epidemic, and the increase of food cost/decrease in food package size.  And there's global warming.  Oh yeah, I almost forgot--we're at war.  The dollar is dropping. Our health care system is shit (it really isn't "ours", I suppose it is better to say those who have and those who have not?).  There's an election coming up (yes I'll vote Obama--the lesser of two evils--neither candidate is that great but please DO NOT vote for McCain, thanks).  And if one was so inclined to pay attention, there are still starving children in third world countries, AIDS, natural disasters, and general injustices for all.  

Maybe getting knocked up isn't such a bad idea.  You know what you'll be doing for the rest of your life, in fact, you have a very clear projection of the next 60 years or so (if one is to assume you are 15 years old and people die around age 77.2), based on the ebb and flow of your child's life and the fact that your whole existence will now be in service to it.  You don't have to worry about your social life because you won't really have the teenage stereotype, college? yeah maybe, you can definitely count on plenty of menial, low-paying jobs (without a college degree)--wait no, you'll probably get a job that doesn't pay well even with a degree--, a pile of bills and nothing else to worry about except keeping you nose to the grindstone and keeping your kids fed.  Maybe you'll be able to make your way out of the child fall-out when they are in their twenties, and the world will have sorted itself out by then.  

Anyway, at least it is a guarantee of the future.  And actually, it is a natural function of the human body... Hmm.  That's probably enough for today. 

Mr. Sandman

I woke up, looked around, realized I was lying on my mat, hoped that I hadn't said anything out loud, and remembered that old saying about savasana.  I suppose technically, it is "resting", but still, it isn't "sleeping".  If you are falling asleep during this time of repose, you need to get more sleep.  

I don't know how other people do it.  Whoopi Goldberg, on the View yesterday, mentioned how she gets something like 4 hours of sleep per night.  And with yoga, aren't you supposed to slowly be able to whittle your way to 3 hours?  

I wonder what time Sharath goes to bed.  If I remember correctly, I heard somewhere that he and Guruji would get up at 2 and have coffee and practice before teaching.  I wonder what the opinion is on naps?  Is there a siesta in India?  I know I certainly got into the habit, waking up at 3:30am at all.  But for some reason, it just doesn't fit into my lifestyle on the eastern seaboard.

I am certainly looking forward to the extra hour tomorrow morning and a primary practice.  My body feels so tired right now.  Although, I've noticed that practice has been opening up in some interesting ways ever since my last practice audit.  I noticed it the most in kapotasana. My torso felt so much more round than before.  

I think I'm noticing that when I am tired, I eat more because somewhere I am convinced that it  gives me the energy I need to get through the day.  Why can't I just convince myself to take a nap?

What to pack--the list starts here

What I think I'll need, plan to pack, and possibly throw out on my upcoming trip to Mysore. Suggestions requested!

Some things are hard to find in India, some things one just does not want to go out and buy, some things are cheaper in India, some things I will eventually wean myself of...

I intend this to be a "living" list, so it will be updated regularly and will become more specific.

Some things I won't be packing but I think that most people will want to.

Some things I will pack but won't list here.

The List

Food/supplements/medicine

-Grapefruit seed extract, wormwood, charcoal These are all for preventing/treating nasty belly issues. Cannot find these there.
-Triphala, laxative For the constipated traveler. Can find these there.

-Vitamins I didn't see them but I'm sure they are available. People recommend taking probiotics. But you could also just eat curd unless you're vegan of course.

-Green veg supplements Many feel they aren't eating enough greens.

Clothing

-Footwear:

Last year I took my Chacos but even as they are open toed, I still with I had brought flip flops as one is always taking ones shoes off an on.
Flip flops But how many pairs? Is one enough? What if--

Crocs From Anonymous

-Clothing to be copied by tailor

-Yoga clothes

Toiletries

toothbrush, hairbrush, hairdryer, hair ties, razors, floss, organic tampons, etc.

Mosquito Repellent (from anonymous) Ah, this is a good point.  I didn't bring any with me and ended up getting some neem oil recommended by the ayurvdeic doctor.  It stunk and I don't hink it really worked.  I'm not sure if you can find it in the stores.  BUt I don know that you are going to have a hard time finding that perfect cruelty free eco friendly brand that you like.  Same for sunscreen.  Most sunscreens that I found in India had skin whitener in them...

Entertainment

music player, cell phone, computer, books, magazines, unfinished projects, camera

Important/logistics

identification

bank documents, number, important info

addresses, phone numbers

Nose dive

One! two! three--pincha--four.

five! six--karan--floor!

Ah karandavasana.  The many lessons learned.  With this practice, when we realize that we "are", then we realize that we have to start from the beginning.  And then we wake up again and realize that we "are" and that we have to start from the beginning.  

I'm in karandavasana (or is it "on" or "doing" or "being" or "trying"?).  No, go back.

I've kicked up to pincha mayurasana.  I realize that I am here I am awake I am breathing that I could choose to give up and fall or choose to ride the wave of where I am.  I realize I am breathing.  I am having an out-of-body-experience inside my body.  But it isn't my head, it it somewhere higher--my thighs perhaps?  I fold one leg, I fold the other.  (It feels more like stitching to me.)  I squeeze them tighter.  I lean my chest forward and PLOP! I've landed for a split second on my upper arms before falling on my butt.  This was the third attempt.  The others were like cliff diving (minus the diving and more like a canon ball but less like a belly flop with arms flailing which is an improvement).  I try one more time and it is back to the diving but at least I had that moment of clarity where time stops and someone whispers the clue and my body starts to do what it must have been born to do.

Then Guy comes over.  I triumphantly cross on my own.  I begin to lower down confident in my new insight on how I will figure out this puzzle.  Guy's confidence must have matched my own because--did he notice that I landed on my nose?  Finished the rest of the pose without a hitch, but spent a few moments reminiscing of back when he taught me bhujapidasana and the exit vinyasa and all the nose dives it took for me to figure that one out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyU3Gs6zTUQ
 

You wake up and realize the mattress you are sleeping on is in the middle of a lake.  You paddle back to the shore.

Practice framing the moondays is always a mix of haphazard experiences.  I'm really light, I'm really heavy.  I'm really strong, I'm really weak.  I lose my balance, I'm spot on.  Happy for the day off.

Okay, so there have been quite a few requests for a part 2 in the "how the @#%! do you...?" series (jump back).  I'm thinking about it...

If you haven't joined the livingmysore magazine google group to receive notices of when we have a new mag out, be sure to do so here.  Also, we are collecting submissions for the July issue...  

Let a smile be your umbrella, cherry pie tastes good, and other Twin Peaks moments

Neck deep in a Twin Peaks "Gold Edition" Marathon.  Birthdays, "Hallmark" holidays, and abnormally high weather, practice and Twin Peaks punctuate the days.  About six weeks until Mysore.  Training my replacements, reading ads to replace me, talk of my life without me.  Taking a deep breath before making that "must do, seriously" list.  

But first, the Log Lady:

  

The heart...

It is a physical organ we all know.

But how much more an emotional organ?

This we also know.

Love--like blood--flows from the heart.

Are love and blood related?

Does a heart pump blood as it pumps love?

Is love the blood of the universe?

More lessons learned on the New York City Subways/Even on the subway one can practice/Samskaras

"Excuse me."  Much like the Indian use of the horn, it is sometimes directed to someone, sometimes a notice that I am here in space like sound bouncing so we know where we all are like bats or sharks in the ocean.  I slide as gracefully as possible into the seat between two "normal" sized commuters (they did not cross the seat indentations into mine--a horror unto itself).  

A man stands over me grumbling under his breath about girls and youth and who knows what else but I do catch his reference to my lapse in the use of "excuse me".  This, apparently, I could not stand for.   "I said 'excuse me',"  I also mumble under my breath.  We are here acting like the other isn't.  This is how you ride in a car for thirty minutes with no AC and the lingering smell of puke and Chinese barbecue chicken over the screams of a baby in a stroller.  

It could have ended there.  We both could have had our moments of anger without penetrating the other's personal space (a relative term depending on the situation, but something New Yorkers will claim, name, and fight to the death for).  I look up briefly from my Sudoku at the sound of the man's voice inches from my face.  His mouth moves slowly like it is full of marbles.  I see every bristle in his fisherman face.  I can smell his angry little life and his desperation to yell at someone, anyone, just to get it out.  Is he enjoying this?  I suppose neither of us anticipated that I also have samskaras (in a nutshell, patterns of thoughts, actions, behaviors "inherited" from past lives or the past of this life) I'm working through.

"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE!" 

I don't yell it or scream it.  It was that cold, calculated, venomous voice built up for all those times when I couldn't or didn't say what I wanted to say.  He looked afraid.  I was steaming.  Of course we rode the subway side by side like this without saying a word for two more stops.

Sometimes you ruffle your wings and then feel better, but sometimes you ruffle them and the feathers keep getting more disorganized. 

What else could have I told him to make him feel like shit?

What was going on with that poor guy that he needed to tell me that?

Why did I react that way?

Now that I have acted upon those samskaras and now that it doesn't feel as natural, will I be able to let them go?

So next time I do it differently.  

As much as I am attached to the idea of transformation, those samskaras are attached to me.

Yoga "Mat"ters har har har

When the props become important, it takes away from the practice.  This has, at least, been my experience.  Sometimes I think that if I could just get that pair of be whatever pants then I'll just rock and then I get them and realize that they suck for my body in a sweaty room practicing ashtanga.  Or, how I don't notice my mat until someone points out that it sucks or I point out that it sucks.  

For example, my first yoga mat ever sucked and it was great!  A cheap blue pvc number that is still in my closet and soon to be moved to the "give away" pile growing behind the couch.  I slipped and slided and had a horrible time in every pose and blamed every kink in my practice on my shitty little mat.  And then, I looked around and realized I wasn't sliding anymore.  Was the mat roughed up a bit (all the pvc floating in the air and soaking through my skin), preventing me from slipping?  Did my sweat glands fly south for the winter?  Was practice less challenging?  Was I using those bandha thingies? 

This was when I loved my mat.  Me and my mat, my mat and me.  Me and my mat in class.   That time--oh do you remember, mat?  That time when I did that pose for the first time and you caught me when I fell?  That was a laugh!  Images of me riding my bike into the sunset with my mat strapped to my back.  Me and my mat sharing a picnic in the park.  Those were the days.

Those were the days before I learned of the dangers of PVC and old blue was shunned to the back of the closet--to dear to throw out, yet too toxic to keep.  That was when I invested in my Harmony mat.  This natural rubber diddy took some getting used to.  It was so sticky I couldn't slide even when I wanted to.  It smelled strongly of rubber.  But when I stood upon it, I breathed it in in all its rubber glory and felt a sense of peace at my earth friendly possession.  But then it was so heavy.  I didn't want to carry it every where.  And was it true?  Was this my rebound mat?  The prospect of using some rental mat sent shivers down my spine, and  yet, I still knew that perhaps I jumped to quickly into this relationship and there were some codependency issues.  

So I broke it off.  I decided to be a free agent.  I would rotate my mats.  I would use rentals.  By golly, I would practice right on the bare, raw, primal wood floor without anything at all.  I was wild and young and thought that I would live forever.  

That idealism, that sweet optimism of youth encouraged me to travel light and forgo packing my mat on my trip to India.  What for?  The prop didn't matter.  I'd use whatever I could find.  What I found was a shitty PVC mat that sent me slipping and sliding like my first months in yoga.  This was when I finally learned of the Mysore yoga rug.  All these years spent looking for the same thing and what I really wanted, what I really needed was always right there in front of me.  And yet, it still was not enough, as Sharath pointed out day after day.  Marble floor + giant floor rug + shitty pvc mat + mysore rug = toes pointing out in back bending and mat wrinkling up.  All highly unacceptable apparently.  He pointed again and again to the big black mats around me.  A Manduka mat.

A Manduka mat?  They are so expensive.  They are so heavy.  Blogging has not yet opened the door to freebie sample heaven.  But practice has.  The world provides.  My teacher cleaned out the yoga mat shelves.  Piles of sad, tired mats slumped in the corner.  But wait--what's this?  A Manduka mat with no tags?  "Can I keep him if not one comes for him?"  

I lovingly unroll my new mat and roll up my old mat.  I slip and slide in pools of my own sweat.  Tomorrow I'll use my rug.

Jedi Mind Tricks aka "Seduce Your Knee" aka Iyengar for Ashtanga People

I'm standing with one leg bent and my foot perched on a bench.  Cory sits, stroking and cooing at my knee, as she repeats "you must seduce your knee... no you are willing it!  Seduce it, seduce it..."  I twist my face in agony as I try with everything in me to figure out the difference between "seducing" and "willing" my knee.  "This is easy for men," she says.  "For women it is very hard."  She smiles.  I laugh.  

"Seducing my knee" says she, is the secret for my pasasana.  It is the saving grace to my tendency toward knock-knee inheritance and another hurdle on the path to working on my samskaras.

Guy says it isn't a twist.  "What is it then?"  I ask.  A standing pose? A balance?  What is it?  "Maybe a hanging pose," he laughs.  I frown. [A noose--ha!] Does defining the category of the pose get my heels closer to the floor?

"You have to hold your bandhas and then lower down slowly," Petra tells me before she gracefully lowers her seat to her heels.  "Now you try."  I fall over.  

"It takes one year to get the heels down," 'A' tells me.  Is this a metaphor?

The perfect end to this would be a multifaceted experience where I pull all this info together into a "perfect" pasasana and post the picture below.  A testament to my hard work, determination, and practice.

Maybe tomorrow.  

But you know, I couldn't even hold the pasasana minus the twist a year ago and now I can.  I couldn't take a loose bind and lift my butt until my heels go down and now I can.  I couldn't confidently bind and hang out (even if I'm on my toes) and now I can.  And after being told to "seduce" my knee on Saturday, I melted down to my heels on Sunday (minus the bind but it is coming).  Thanks Cory!

Ashtanga Yoga Cheat Sheets

Okay, now, while I don't think yoga should be learned from pictures, I do know that this is how I started my practice.  I hunted these practice sheets down because I know that 

1.  not everyone can afford a yoga class

2.  not everyone has time for a yoga class

3.  some people are visual learners

4.  some people cannot go to a teacher 6 days a week and need help remembering (in the beginning) what to practice

and also because

1.  I think that the more free info in the world, the better

2.  I want people to be excited about yoga and practice

3.  It can be fun to look ahead to see what is coming

4.  It can be fun to show your friends where you are in the sequence

5.  Finding this stuff on the net is like pulling teeth

Cheat sheets can be helpful for these reasons.  However, I very strongly feel that one should learn from a teacher and that you shouldn't bring these to class.  Being clueless builds character.

Without further ado:

http://www.radikalfreedom.com/yoga/downloads.html

Surya Namaskar A

Surya Namaskar B

Standing postures   please note that there are some "extras" in here that aren't taught in the standing sequence at AYRI.

Primary series   more extras here as well

Second series  and here too

Finishing Postures  yes, and there are more here

also check this site:

http://www.astangayoga.co.nz/yoga_frameset.html

What isn't helpful about cheat sheets:

1.  uh, you're cheating

2.  it is a crutch.  your practice is partly what you can remember and partly what is appropriate for your body.  

3.  practice isn't just about the postures

4.  they insinuate that there is a "perfect posture" out there that you need to attain

5.  sometimes they are inaccurate

6.  they can't tell you how to get into/out of a pose or if you are doing it correctly

Does anyone have a third series poster?  I decided I'm going to just skip the rest of second and start practicing third at home.  ;)

Getting out of the funk/I see the light!

Primary can be a real drag. All the forward bending and linear movements and endless prostrating, for those of us with a slight inclination toward the blues who also live in "ick" weather, this is a recipe for a sad face. And if you haven't gotten any new poses in awhile this is called the plateau. We have all been there at one point or another and will continue to find ourselves on that long stretch of same many times to come. But the question is, how does one break the plateau and at the very least, make it feel like new?

My first experience with the plateau came when I was working full primary and nothing seemed to be happening. I felt heavy. I felt stiff. I was only getting the basic adjustments that everyone else gets. I realized that nothing was going to change unless I changed it and that I could be doing primary only until the end of time, so I had better find some ways to make it interesting. But mostly, I realized that I shouldn't be dreading the thought of practice. This is my life and my time and I want to enjoy it!

How to reinvigorate, re inspire, resurrect and have fun in practice

1. Think positive. For me, I used a three-fold path. Practicing with a smile, thinking happy thoughts, listening to go-get-em-tiger music before practice. My mantra was "I LOVE this!"

2. Get light. Uddiyana bandha changed everything. I made hollowing out my belly the main focus of my practice. This action helped make the jumps jumpier, the lifts "liftier", and everything more economical.

3. Stick to the vinyasa. No more extra breaths, looking around, going to the bathroom, adjusting clothing, or whatever it is you distract yourself with. Stick to the vinyasa. If you don't know it, learn it.

4. Open your heart. In my pre-ashtanga existence, I enjoyed the high I got after back bending. (I did mention that I was a sensation junkie.) I felt confident, like I could do anything. And my back bends weren't even that great. Something happens psychologically when you open your chest, just as something happens when you round your shoulders (there was an entire movement around this, they called it "heroin chic" and "grunge"). But with all the forward bending in primary, how is this possible? The answer is simple: turn everything into a chest-expanding, heart opening, breast busting, expression of your fourth chakra. Why not? Ashtangis are known for their crappy shoulder alignment, it can't do anything but help. You'll thank me when you get to second series. So in every pose, from chaturanga to kurmasana, I tried to think expansion, chest melting, collar bones wide.

5. Become a back bender. I spent more time learning how to deepen my wheels and learning to come up. Rocking from hands to feel helped to open the chest and to learn how to distribute my weight in order to stand. Plus, it really stretches the chest. (Inhale rock forward to the feet and pelvis, exhale rock to the hands and chest.)

6. Be objective. Pretend you are outside looking in. Is there anything that you could put more effort into? For me, it was all the lifting up stuff. Navasana and lift ups. Bhujapidasana and exit vinyasa. Headstand. Uthplutih.

Perhaps not everyone goes through this, but I have a tendency toward extreme happy and extreme sad. In primary, I was making everything a downer. Very tamasic--heavy and sluggish. Dull, even. I looked at my diet, my attitudes, my motivation, and added some fire (rajas) to the mix. It sucks, but eventually I had to learn how to do the work and inspire change in myself. I realize (though often forget) that no one will save me, rescue me, take care of me, or learn to jump back from bakasana, but me.

Sensation junkies

Last night, in a visiting-relative-paid taxi over the bridge I had that happy little feeling that makes me want to stay in New York forever.  I love riding in taxis at night in New York, especially when we are going fast (relatively) in one direction so I can see the street breeze by, or, when we are crossing the bridge and all the lights from the city turn into a dream.  It is the same feeling on an open road (again, in a car) with one of "those" songs and the sun baking your arm.  Or riding on a motor bike and dropping your head back so you can look up at the trees and the sky.  It is the feeling of being somewhere/being not somewhere.  It is the feeling of flying over a town in a dream.  You are there, but you aren't because your feet aren't on the ground.  

It occurs to me that much of New York (although this must be obvious) costs way more money than many people can afford right now.  And it isn't God that is magically changing the economy.  (Future president/any person of influence, please do something different because this shit sucks!)  So for the time being and perhaps forever I'll have to live vicariously through the New York dream of movies like "Sex and the City".  Great.

A note on other sensations of being alive:

Post-headstand balasana, my torso feels like it has an exoskeleton that is cracking at the seams.  Some days I feel shattered.  It feels like one by one, each rib is lighting up in the joint where it connects to the spine.  And when it lights, it ignites an electric shock down my spine.  Every breath shatters glass.  And then I realize that I have a dialogue running in my head and it is so loud that I wonder if anyone else can hear or if I have been talking out loud.  I wonder how long I've been here with my forehead on the floor.  And then it is over.

Slip and slide

In the winter, the balmy, sticky, cold, and rainy days make me scared to go to practice. I feel like an old hinge and a rusty bike chain all rolled into one creaky little package. But now the days are positively pleasant, and when the rain comes, I am surprised at how deep my practice becomes. Maybe it is because psychologically, I am putting more effort into the other stuff because I figure the wet weather will make me too stiff to bend anyway, and then all that work actually pays off and I become more open than if I would have tried for it. 

There are places in practice where the wet legs and arms are not to my benefit (or at least, they don't make things easier). Today in bhekasana, that stubborn right heel (which now touches the floor--a feat beyond belief in this ashtangi's mind) was on its way down when my hand slipped off my foot and my leg went flying (I think it did at least, hard to remember when I am just so focused ;)). In supta vajrasana, the feet can be slippery little buggers. Again, in bakasana, I have to actually work--imagine--to keep up rather than just resting on my arms, otherwise my legs slip right off. So I was rather surprised when I nailed bakasana B, slippage be damned! In yoga nidrasana and dwi pada sirsasana, the slippery shins helped me to get deep into the pose. But, then they quickly slipped away. In back bending, it was ankles being grabbed instead of calves. My hands would have slipped right down.

I kind of like it like this. It makes the practice feel so dynamic, so alive, like a music video with a bunch of scantily clad hotties gyrating in a sweaty room to the rhythm of the breath. I'm a bit of practice vampire, I'll admit, feeding off the energy of the room.

Toward the end of second series today (for me that is pincha, karan, mayurasana), I started having these weird thoughts. You know, like when you think of a word and you keep thinking of it until it doesn't make any sense. Well, same thing, but with the practice. In karandavasana mostly. I kept thinking about how "omg I am upside down" and wait "what do I do now?" and "f#$ I'm still upside down this is crazy" It was funny actually. 

In mayurasana, there are a couple of moments where my body is like "what is this?" and it searches through the database to figure out how to proceed and then it happens. I start to float. I was thinking about it yesterday and it reminds me a bit of those air locked jars of jam. Pop!

Moonday

Sometimes after the philosophy class, I have hard time sitting down to write.  I feel like someone is shining a bright light in my eyes and all I can do is alternately look back and shy away.

But the last few days it is all those small everyday things that I've been noticing.  I'm definitely a bit nostalgic already and I still have almost two months before departure.  

Small things, like how the practice works itself out.  How, without thinking, and just trusting, somehow, it all works out in the end.  Watching students struggle like babies learning to swim in uthplutih and remembering how not long ago that was me.  Feeling at peace with the world and myself and then receiving a pile of checks from the government and student loans.  (Money won't make me forger, Bush.)  How sweet it is to have no obligations and to just wake up voluntarily on the moonday and feeling the same way when I have to wake up to go to practice.

There is a pile of stuff to give away/sell growing behind the couch.  Everyday, I throw a little bit more back there.  It is this stuff that weighs me down; it is throwing this stuff behind the couch that makes me feel closer to flight.

Currently reading:  A Model Summer.  I really am. 

LivingMysore.com

I just published the June issue of our ashtanga-inspired magazine.

(Hence the absence of posts.)

Check it out!

www.livingmysore.com