Going to Mysore!

Things to do on your last two days:

Get a fabulous haircut
Pack
Eat delicious Italian food
Practice
Drink tap water just because you can
Say goodbye to family and friends
Wear short skirts, low cut shirts, and expose your shoulders
Get all finances settled
Go to the movies
Get all documentation in order
Eat sushi, peaches, thai, apples, new mexican

Wave goodbye!

Don't you see I love you? And tips for karandavasana

Picture me shaking a rag doll viciously while screaming "I LOVE YOU!" while its head bobs back and forth and the stitch securing its button eye loosens and the eye is dangling down. And now imagine that the rag doll and I take turns shaking each other but we can't seem to figure out how to both be rag dolls or people at the same time. It goes like this: Hug the doll, love the doll, freak out and shake the doll, hug the doll again.

I wanted to practice, I wanted to swim, instead I'll run around this fantastic city and hopefully remember to remember that it won't be surrounding me tomorrow.

Kirsten's Tips for Karandavasana
1. Be sure to make the lotus as tight as possible
2. Stretch your knees up to the sky first as if someone were pulling you up. This helps you to find the bandhas
3. Steady your breath
4. Simultaneously lean your shoulders forward as you wrap your pelvis around an imaginary monkey bar. Aim your knees for your kidneys.
5. As you move, think of being inside a cylinder. You are compacting yourself and dropping straight down.
6. You have to lean your chin forward more than you think (like in bhujapidasana) to counterbalance perching your knees on your arms.
7. And then you come up and jump back. The end.

My tips for karandavasana?
1. Picture yourself on the main lawn of central park having yoga playtime/picnic with friends.
2. Be calm, relaxed, almost lazy--the grass smells fresh
3. Look forward as much as possible--you can see your thumbs and past that thousands of blades of grass
4. Stay soft yet in control--the grass is cool under your forearms
5. Nick your upper arms and then bounce to the floor butt first. Then laugh and try again.

Full Circle

About one year later I am again sitting with Kate in front of a computer listening to php fetch css go in one ear and out the other with one foot here and the other in India. Bless her patience. My flight to India is almost a day away and I want to give New York a big squeeze. I feel unprepared every time I say goodbye and one part empty one part giddy as I stand on street corners alone.

I'm all packed up and ready to go and worrying about the silly little things instead of the big ones. Maybe they seem easier to fix or maybe those are the things that make something special. I'm stepping cautiously and feel like Bambi learning to stand and the rug gets pulled out from under me and I stand and then a rip current pulls everything away but I'm still there in shallow waters watching my belongings dragged out to sea. A little sadness tugging at the bottom left corner of my heart, a little happiness and excitement pulling up the top.

I was hoping to post a picture of me happily perched in pasasana or karandavasana as a "final project" or something to punctuate my time in New York, but instead we'll all have to settle for the intangible glory of tears and toil and little glimpses of liberation.

As I savor the last few moments with my closest friends (and a few tears) I can smell the masala in the distance and can't hardly wait to shed this skin.

Upcoming Solar Eclipse

I hope I can see it from inside the plane!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/space/20080725/sc_space/viewersguideaug1solareclipse

Yoga--The Ultimate Health Tonic?

I just finished reading this funny little book called Yoga, Youth, and Reincarnation by Jess Stern. The author spends some time studying yoga (and all things hippie and new age) in Concord with his teacher, Marcia. He goes from absolute neophyte to adept shoulderstander and believer in the magical benefits of yoga practice. Among the claims of relief from aches and pains, increased energy, change of appetite, reduced stress levels, etc. are claims that his teacher hasn't been sick in years because of the yoga. Yoga is so great. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda.

I must be doing something wrong because I have had a cough that sounds like I was brought home from a kennel last Sunday. I threw out our moldy shower curtain, dusted furniture, cleaned floors, turned off the AC, broke out the neti pot, and gargled salt water. When I'm sick or injured, I always think about how I don't appreciate feeling healthy when there is nothing wrong. I make a little vow to myself that I'll savor every moment, but usually, a day or two passes before I realize that I am not sneezing green boogers every two seconds.


Signed,

Mysore Musings--The Most Boring Blog in the World (cus it just don't go nowhere)

Could you please hold for a moment?

Sure, I'll hold.
As if I have another option.

6 days until my flight to India.

[Sigh.]

I just want to be alone. I feel like I have been living in a thrift store the last couple of weeks--lots of things once held dear. I just taught my last class and all my checks are in the mail (or so they say). The "throw out" stuff is thrown out. The "giveaway" stuff is given away. The "to sell" stuff is being sold. I've said a lot of goodbyes. I'm unraveling a sweater. I'm a tied-down hot air balloon waiting to float into the sky.

I need to check with my supervisor, can you please hold again?
Yes, of course.

My asana practice is a TV on in another room. I'm going, I'm practicing, and then it's the next day again. But even when I'm not looking at the TV, the shows keep playing and in practice the same holds true. I let out a yelp when I landed on my upper arms in karandavasana and then went on with my day as if it happened to someone else or me in a future time.

Waiting is the hardest part. Or is it being on hold?

You'll need to dial this number instead.

I wonder what a snake feels like when it crawls out of its own skin or a snail that trades its home for another. Is it like a much wanted shower or is it like a small death?

me, myself, and all the stuff I own (apparently)

"Hello?"
"What's up?"
"You called me."
"And I called to say 'what's up!'" I'm not getting out of this one.
"Well--" I'm standing in the doorway of my closet with one hand on the phone and one hand on the shelf, my face is buried in folds of clothing, and suddenly I can't breathe. "I don't think I can do this." Tears are welling up. They are just clothes. What's wrong with me?
"Come on, you're the most non-hoarding person I know!"
"But..." I begin to ramble between swallowed sobs.
She interrupts, "Well, anyway, guess what? The baby is kicking now." And "Did you know a milk shake is just empty calories?" And "Guess what? I'm getting married!" And "Remember that time when--" As my brain travels across the country to rest on my best friend's lap, my hands are throwing things into the toss-out-pile, the maybe-think-about-storing-it pile (because you can't handle the thought of not possessing it at the moment), the recycle-please pile, and sadly-the-garbage-bin.

Two people in one space surrounded by the years in New York, the years in love, the years cohabiting, the many avatars of ourselves and our imaginations. We can't walk without falling.

This is me as executioner. This lives. This dies.

I am supposed to kill artist me.
I am supposed to kill knitter me.
I am supposed to kill sentimental me.
I am supposed to kill living in New York me.
I am supposed to kill yoga teacher me.
I am supposed to kill academic me.
I am supposed to kill chef me.
etc.

Maybe if I only had to bury them it would be easier. But I know inside that I'd sneak some things out of the country. But they look at me with these sad eyes filled with hope and dreams of what could be and it's hard. I'm thinking this as I dust off the cover of the "Guatemala 2005" hanging wall calendar. Can I really live without this?

Purging on a full moon isn't a good idea emotionally as it gets quite intense. Or maybe that's the only day you should really do it.

Today I'm casually thumbing through the paperwork-to-be-sorted pile feeling good about last night's meltdown and subsequent breakthrough when a small piece of paper torn from a notebook falls to the ground.

I wish I knew
I was dying
50 years ago
because I would
have paid more
attention to what
I pushed aside

Past me watching present me and leaving her a note. Future me watching present me tells past me that leaving a note would be a good idea. Future me is past me and writes the note for present me. Present me is future me and past me too.

Happy Birthday Guruji! A look at last year's celebration

Amongst the moving, organizing, seeing friends, and doing research for the upcoming teacher training/immersion post, I 've been really busy. In light of the circumstances, I thought it would be fun to relive last year's birthday party...

http://mysoremusings.blogspot.com/2007/07/joys-of-eating-finger-food-and.html

Interesting note: Guruji's birthday always falls on the new moon and so does Guru Purnima. The event marks the birthday of Vyasa who was the author of the Mahabharata (among other deeds). Being that he was a great teacher, it is an occasion to celebrate all teachers. The name "guru" refers to "teacher" and "purnima" means "full moon".

Green Eggs

About 24 hours and $5.50 later I am sitting in a local coffee shop feeling really good about being in New York. It's that warm fuzzy tickle behind my sternum that makes me smile a little. Looking back, it's the same feeling I had walking across the Brooklyn Bridge for the first time and deciding that yes, this was where I wanted to be.

I break out the laptop and sip tea and here come my eggs and they are scrambled. But I hate scrambled eggs! But I didn't say anything. And I didn't get angry. The thought came up for a second and then it was gone and I took a bite and I liked them.

Before noon, the streets are still soft and if you have a chance to walk them and are able to look around, you notice all the many lives unfolding around you. A woman pushes a stroller. A bike passes by. People doing tai chi. Homeless kids laughing and passing a cigarette. Even the guy who turned suddenly stomping on my foot made me smile. I looked up and saw a man with his head out an apartment window. AC water dripped onto my head like sweet summer rain. Isn't it funny how you have to trick yourself into doing things differently and when you do, you're always surprised at how amazing it looks from the new angle.

"I'm barely helping you at all." Ha. Yeah right. It's a nice sentiment though. All those little details that you forgot you gave yourself permission to slide are now center stage when the visiting teachers come to town. Day one they watch you and take notes. Day two you get feedback and nod your head yeah yeah yeah. Day three you do. You do! You sadistic #&%#ers, #%&@ you! Day four you realize that maybe you aren't seeing yourself clearly (duh).

I've never watched myself practice. How can I be objective? How can I see the possibility? I can feel the kinks. It's so quickly that weeds overrun the flowerbed. We don't even notice they are there. And the gardener comes around and pulls and pulls and pulls.

Today I finally let out a sigh and said "okay". And I wasn't just saying it. Inside, my body said let's be open to the possibility. And now everything looks translucent.

Next post: A look at Ashtanga Yoga Immersions...

On Second thought...

Fuck this yoga shit.

(Don't mind her, this blogger is just working through some stuff in practice.)

Ashtanga for life?

The long, drawn out, musings blog. But hey, it's a Sunday!

Is ashtanga really a life-long practice? Does it actually make people healthier? Why does it seem that everyone gets injured at some point, and how many long-term practitioners are still practicing ashtanga yoga as taught in Mysore?

Okay Jason, this one is for you.

Ashtanga yoga is "advertised" as a life-long practice. Let us first consider exactly what constitutes as the life-long practice. The Yoga Sutras say that "practice" does not refer only to asana, but to the "effort toward steadiness of mind". So although I might say that I'm going to "do my practice", I am probably referring to "doing my asana practice". Asana (poses) are only one segment of the complete ashtanga yoga system, so really, I am always trying to practice an effort toward steadiness of mind. I don't go into "yoga mode" for one hour and a half while I throw myself around on a cotton rug and then go outside to yell obscenities at each asshole who crosses my path. And what if I broke my arm? What would I do then?

But if it isn't about the asanas, then how about that quote that people love: "99% practice 1% theory"? What does this really mean? 99% doing vinyasas, 1% reading philosophy? 99% muscle, 1% brain? I think it's more like 99% moving toward stillness, 1% gathering more information on how to do that. (Although one could even argue that "gathering" is effort as well. I think the real point here is that one has to actually be actively DOING this stuff rather than just sitting around thinking about how maybe one day it will come knocking on the front door.)

So if our definition of practice includes much more than asana, then it is easy to imagine people practicing well into their nineties. Might Guruji be practicing asana right now in Mysore had he not gone through his tragic loss of a son? Who can say? Would Krishnamacharya have him doing asana to help his health problems? Maybe. We see many photos and videos of Krishnamacharya practicing asana and pranayama into very old age. But for whatever reason, as far as I know, Guruji does not currently practice asana. What his daily practice consists of I cannot say. Ask him when you're in Mysore...

Does ashtanga make people healthier? If we talk only about the asanas, we find that each asana has therapeutic benefits for the body and mind from helping to remove "bad fat" to massaging the liver to aiding constipation or urinary tract problems. The vinyasa method and ujjayi pranayama each have benefits as well. Additionally, the lifestyle surrounding ashtanga yoga asana practice and ashtanga yoga practice in general promotes healthy life choices. However, like anything else in life, it is about balance, and with a little bit of effort, we can easily overdo it.

The more I think about it, the more it becomes obvious that this system is only harmful if we make it that way and we tend to make it that way when we get really involved with the ego. For example, why would someone carry on an unhealthy form of extreme dieting unless they felt that it would make their practice better? (I want to "get" karandavasana so I'm doing macrobiotic fast number 7.) Isn't it possible to make gradual changes that are healthy or even to be patient and not obsess about progress? When does effort toward stillness become unhealthy or even dangerous?

So is ashtanga yoga a yoga of injuries and pain? We can break pain and injuries associated with ashtanga yoga into a few different categories. The first type of pain is associated with an injury that was already an injury before the asana and as we push ourselves into something (because we feel we have to accomplish it) the pain of the preexisting injury doesn't go away. The second kind of pain comes when we go deeper into something and discover a misalignment that was already there and as we work through it (because we want to perfect the asana) it causes us pain. The third kind of pain happens when we push hard to get into an asana and get injured because we weren't doing it properly or weren't prepared to practice it. The fourth kind of pain comes from faking the ability to practice a posture and getting injured when a teacher calls the bluff and adjusts us deeper or allows us to continue with what we are doing.

(This argument is tricky because on the one hand, without the fire of the ego that wants to find the stillness, we would be lying on our mats doing nothing, but on the other hand, blindly following the ego into uncharted territory and trusting the drive to be the best can lead us straight off a cliff.)

But maybe it is literally supposed to be a 6 day a week asana practice. Do all the old school luminaries still practice? If the previous discussion of pain and injuries holds true, then the only way to be able to sustain is to pull back and practice with humility and patience--which probably none of us really does. But we're trying though :)

The point? I think we just don't get it yet. As much as we say it, we can't figure out how to practice without thinking about the asanas. A trip to Mysore doesn't help. You'll hear me singing the "it's not about the poses" mantra soon, but even so, I think that students get injured in Mysore because they are pushing hard to get poses. It is what it is.

No one is forcing anyone to do anything. No one tells you that you have to do something if you don't want to. There are smart ways to work with and through pain and injury and there are really stupid ways to do it too. The question is not whether ashtanga yoga is a lifelong practice but whether or not we are up to the challenge.

Gymnastics gymnastics gymnastics

The video that started it all (see 'I love gymnastics' post).



Another video.



That was fun.

Holy toe!

Last year someone was whining to me about their torn up toe. Yeah yeah yeah I said. Nope that hasn't happened to me, didn't you know I was invincible? Duh!

Slowly, my mortality revealed itself. Dry, chapped skin and callouses around my big toes have formed protective coverings marking exactly the spots where my toes roll from chaturanga to up dog and up dog to down dog. Yes, it is a little ugly but not the end of the world. Nothing a proper and regular pedicure regime couldn't counter. But now it has gone too far. There wasn't any callousing around the bottom of my big toe and a few days ago I noticed that the skin was tearing and then it just ripped. It looks like a splintered piece of wood and feels like it too.

"You have 'Mysore toe'?!" My friend yells. Huh--no, me? Of course not. She explains that that was why Sharath's toes were all taped up when we were in Mysore. Really? I ask her. Uh huh. The story goes that she went in to ask Sharath about it during the Indian afternoon class (westerners at crack of dawn, Indians in afternoon). "OH MY GOD! So THAT'S why you have tape on your toes!" She's yelling, he's adorable and quiet. He laughs a little and says shh.

"Ah ha!" Moments and Guess What? I Love Gymnastics

A few months back, I was busy pondering the difference between my back bends and what they could be. To review, my Iyengar friend Cory Washburn suggested that I "mull over" the concept of opening the back of my knee in drop backs. And mull I have in the hopes of obtaining more control and possibly that ever so lovely moment of suspension before delicately resting my hands to the floor and of course, coming up with no clear indication to the onlooker that that was what was about to occur: it was yoga magic. I knew that this would change a few things and require a shift in mind and body, but the idea of a "pain"-free and healthy back bend (productive back bending, really) kept me optimistic. I also knew that an indicator that I was if fact opening the back of my knee was being sore in my hamstrings and possibly belly instead of my quads and low back.

Almost two months later, I'm coming up from knee grabbing with legs straight and my butt on fire, my salambasana flying, lagu vajrasana a guarantee, and mayurasana becoming increasingly accessible. So there we have it--ah hah!

I don't remember what exactly compelled me to look up gymnastics on the internet, but somehow there I was googling away. Maybe it was the swimming trials on TV and I thought that watching gymnastics trials might be a great way to spend a rainy afternoon... Anyway, one thing leads to another and I'm watching youtube videos of elite gymnastics training. What I found particularly interesting was the number of tears, heartbreak, and toil behind the scenes movies that were listed. So it is hard. I get it. I love that people make videos of it. My favorite was a clip of this tiny girl maybe 8 years old in a supta padangustasana type position with her coach sitting on her extended leg while he pushed her raised leg with two hands into her face. She alternated between pushing her leg away and arms to the sides in exasperation, all in a fit of tears and agony. Wow.

I got to thinking about the similarities between the tears and toil in ashtanga practice and gymnastics and then between the two practices (and dedication to anything, really). There is quite a bit of hard work, frustration, and dumb and numb persistence involved. I know that even mentioning gymnastics on an ashtanga blog is controversial. Let's just get that out of the way.

Why would it be controversial? Well in case you're new, here's the rundown:
1. Because the origins of the hatha practice of ashtanga yoga are a bit vague. There, I said it. The original text that the practice is based on called the Yoga Korunta was eaten by ants, disintegrated, burned, vanished, etc. Some people say that it was a mix of yoga stretches, gymnastics, and wrestling exercises. Ashtanga people don't like this interpretation at all because it implies that the practice is very much based on practices that could be considered superficial in that they are based in the physical rather than the mental.
2. Because maybe people might think that I was a gymnast up until yesterday and so obviously this makes ashtanga yoga so easy for me and there is no merit in anything I do or say because I didn't have any tears or toil. I admit, I did gymnastics for a couple of years as a kid with Olympic dreams...REALLY big dreams. However, when I started yoga, I couldn't touch my toes. Now dancers are a whole other story...jk
3. Because if I'm entertained by gymnastics then I must hold a lot of merit in the physical aspect of practice and therefore am an asana-obsessed ego maniac. This one is true. ha.)

Now back to the gymnastics. I'm fascinated by the whole thing. The coaches, the grueling training, how strange it is to glamorize prepubescent girls, the eating disorders, the drama, the psychology, the voyeurism, just all of it. But most of all, I find it incredibly interesting that gymnastics is largely a kids' sport that destroys their bodies, while ashtanga yoga is extremely physically demanding, yet can be maintained for a lifetime and actually makes the body healthier. Where is the line drawn? Obviously, there is much more to this crazy ashtanga stuff than the poses.

24 Days Until India--what's a girl to do?

I have been slowly preparing for the trip. I thought I'd just have my essentials by now. Everything else cleared out and gone. This proved to be more challenging that expected. I suppose I work better with a deadline and under pressure. So with less than a month to go, the clock is in motion, the to do list is in my hand, it is time to get down to business. Now with the anticipation of the departure overriding the feelings of impending doom (what are we going to do? are you coming? etc.), it is a bit easier to make the piles and fill the garbage bags.

It is a little depressing--not the cleaning out part, the fact that a good majority of my stuff is garbage. I just want all my little memories to continue in the happy care of somebody and not a landfill.

To Do:
Cancel magazine subscriptions
Get all bills on auto pay
Get mail forwarded to another address
Organize finances
Purge house: sort through belongings (sell, trade, giveaway, garbage)
Cancel Netflix
Consolidate belongings
Reconnect/say goodbye to friends
See family
Get final paychecks
Return any borrowed items from library, friends, etc.
Have stoop sale
Put stuff on craigslist
Sell books to The Strand
Cook, bake, eat food!
Move out
Buy "India" clothes to have copied
Buy needed items for India

The Sternoclavicular Joint and Thigh Grabbing

I stretch my neck forward and turn on the bright light in the bathroom. "What the--Come look at this!" One of my collarbones seems to be noticeably more visible than the other. But this isn't what bothers me, it's the little bruise marking a small ball where my collarbone meets my sternum. That can't be good.

I find it fascinating that the only joint connecting the arms to the torso is this small little spot. It is so small and delicate like a little flower. And here I come jumping and flying off my trampoline into the flower bed. Stomp.

It doesn't hurt, but it does feel like something is a little off. That said, this is an ongoing asymmetry. A few years ago I was a model for a chiropractic body evaluation teaching session where the student looked at me to learn how to "read" a body. Things that are off when you are standing--such as a shoulder scooping forward a bit more than the other or a hip that does the same--aren't a big deal because you can fix them by changing your physical patterns in day to day life. It's the things that show when you are lying down that are a bit more stubborn. On the day, I had nothing that was obvious when lying down.

I forgot about this stuff until the last few months when I have noticed that sometimes the joint pops or cracks when I'm in upward facing dog. It doesn't feel bad or painful, just weird--kind of embarrassing because I feel like a mutant.

I figure some practice with attention to this area will help put it back in place...

With my mind so focused on all this craziness, when it came to back bending I sort of laughed and joked: "Yeah yeah today...thighs!" And thighs it was. Well, "thigh" actually, but that's a start.

The Fourth of July and Other Favorite New York Past Times/Fear and Loathing in New York

Flood lights are turning the sky a milky hue, helicopters are circling overhead and shining spotlights down on the large gathering of people who have been corralled into this smallish riverside patch of grass (that is often generously referred to as a "park"). Police officers litter the crowd, stand in dark corners, are perched from view towers, and are checking bags at a make-shift gate. "This is a police state...They're gonna unload on the crowd, man!"

There are people everywhere. We wander aimlessly, trying to lay claim to a patch of grass not occupied or surrounded by screaming children with tennis balls or water guns. Like bugs to a light bulb, our natural instincts pull us closer to the water, closer to the Macy's boat which will be blasting massive explosives into the air. We fight the pull of nature and walk toward the exit, picking a spot that allows us an easy escape.

"I dare you to open that pizza box!" The group of friends in front of us has stood up from their blanket to see if the show is starting --how this would give them any information beats me-- leaving a box of Fornino's tasty pizza vulnerable to our antics. But is the box empty? The question plagues us. We go back and forth over how funny it would be to ask them for a slice or whether or not we should just open the box (not that we'd actually eat it, of course). Others around us begin to stand up. Again, what they think they will see puzzles us all. A portly woman stands and balances precariously on a cement balance beam which separates the concrete picnic table area from the grass patch where we and the pizza box sit. We look at each other with eyebrows raised, "That box is going to get stomped when the show starts". It happened sooner than that. It happened sooner than the "healthy" American lost her balance. The woman's obese daughter in Nike high tops and cutoff shorts stomped onto the balance beam with knees high, she stomped onto the grass, and then raised her foot high and stomped on the pizza box.

"Oh!" Did we shout it, or did our eyebrows mime it? Either way, it happened. The group of friends and sad owners of the leftover pizza (seems there was some left) turned around aghast. You see, there are invisible and unsaid divides between different cultures/income levels/age groups in New York. The girl looked at the group and smiled as she stomped again. The mother laughed. The friends moved the pizza box.

We couldn't handle it. We had to get out. We fought against the stream of umbrellas, coolers, and glow sticks to the exit shining a few meters ahead. Dogs were barking impending doom. We walked and walked until there were no more cops. We found a small alleyway where everyone could pee behind cars while the "bombs burst in air". We couldn't hear the car alarms going off anymore, only the loud blast boom and rumble in our hearts.

Clothes do matter -- Hot shorts!

Whenever I brought a friend home, my brother would embarrass me with threats of digging the old "Pre-Teen America" videos out from the bottom of the VHS drawer. I was usually able to quell the enthusiasm that followed by giving in and telling at least one embarrassing moment from said event in exchange for not pressing "play". The favorite was my answer during the Q and A session amongst the last finalists. (Although the most embarrassing was my rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", where I freaked out and ended up lip syncing...yikes! I knew better than to mention that as that would ensure the tape be played.) So I'm up on stage and I have to pick a question out of a fishbowl full of folded up pieces of paper. My question reads "Do the clothes make the woman or does the woman make the clothes?" Ah but the answer was so easy, so obvious! And yet, when I opened my mouth, I opened with the opposite response -- "The clothes make the woman" -- followed by my explanation of how it is what is inside that counts. Right.

Some Mormon dairy farmer's daughter in a horrific Easter dress from JC Penny's ended up winning, with me in 3rd or 4th place. But now I see that my Freudian slip was kind of true, at least as applies to yoga practice.

Huh?

In a previous post, I talked a bit about yoga clothing and the three gunas. As much as I would like to wear whatever, practice on whatever, and have it not matter because my practice is too "real" or "strong" or whatever to be effected by superficial real-world nonsense, it is just not entirely true. When I wear clothes that are baggy, sloppy, or ill-fitting, I am distracted, uncomfortable, and feel "heavy". It's like standing next to someone who is really put together while you are wearing grey sweatpants with oil stains, sandals with socks, and an over sized T-shirt. What I wear doesn't make or break my practice, I don't obsess about it or anything, but when I purchase yoga clothing, I keep in mind how it will make me feel during practice. As much as I like the loose fitting Be Present pants, for example, the drawstring waist hikes up too high or too low, I get wedgies, and all that extra flapping around me is a "drag"--pun intended.

Sloppy yoga clothes don't work for me. Also as a yoga teacher, it is better when students avoid looser clothing because the teacher can better see what is happening in each asana. (PS- I have seen a lot of underwear and g-strings exposed by the Be Present pants.)

On the opposite end of the spectrum, too little clothing doesn't work out either. Today the shala is closed, so I practiced primary at home--in my underwear. Well, at least that's what I would consider it. But it seems that there are plenty of people who look totally normal practicing while wearing almost the same getup...

Kundalini teacher Ana Brett
Yoga Journal's 2008 Calendar


Of course, we have all also seen plenty of shirtless men with their itty bitty black spandex shorts. They don't look naked, right?

Am I just not used to so much exposed flesh in practice? Do I not have the right body for it? All questions yet to be answered. Still, there is so much skin on skin friction. And if I was sweating a lot, I imagine I'd feel like I'd turned into a slimy salamander.

Not too tight not too loose--I guess that for me, even when picking practice clothing, the middle path also applies.

Oh, and I didn't use my mat. I do that once in a while.

--"Three Gunas" post from last year: http://mysoremusings.blogspot.com/2007/07/yoga-clothing-and-3-gunas.html

Hump day and related poses/Primary Series is like a treadmill set at "hills"

Thinking back to yesterday's practice and my body caught in a thick downpour of sweat, I try to recall what it was like to be a "beginner". I think it felt (physically) a lot like it feels right now. Some days I leave practice feeling like I took a nice nap or a warm shower; on other days, I feel like I fell off my bike, wrestled a bear, picked up a couch, or came down with the flu. When I was slowly working my way through primary, I remember feeling so tired that I couldn't even fathom coming in to practice -- the idea of rolling out my mat was already like practicing full primary. I fell on my face a lot. I did a lot of pep talks. My breathing was irregular. My bandhas were transient tenants. Overall, it was like visiting a country where I have never been, a language I could not speak, food I have never seen, with only one sort of friend to show me around -- sometimes.

Slowly, I learned how to pace myself, how to smooth out the kinks. I worked up the courage to challenge myself to do a bit more than just show up (which is already like 80% of the practice for a college student). Things started to make sense and integrate into my body and mind. But even as the storm began to pass, even as I began to converse with the locals (in horrible grammar and accent, of course), I had certain "mantras" going through my mind. During the Sun Salutes at the beginning, it was "Crap! Three more, one more, etc." After that hill was climbed, it was "Here it comes--utthita hasta--here it comes!" And could I time it perfectly so someone will hold my leg? After that, I was coasting, arms spread to the sides, sea breeze in my face -- until I realized that navasana was only a few poses away. Then it became an effort to slow down my breathing and enjoy the forward bends (five breaths is never enough).

Navasana always comes, regardless of how much one tries to avoid it. Bent legs, sweating, wrinkled and pained expressions abound. And then bhujapidasana, kurmasana, with relief finally coming in garbha pindasana. From there again, it is coasting until back bending, sirsasana, and of course, uthplutih.

I was always fascinated by this pacing in primary series, how it is not a steady incline or decline, but a series of "highs" and "lows" punctuated by the "really hard shit" in the middle (navasana, bhujapidasana, kurmasana, and to some extent garbha pindasana). Now when I mean "hard", I mean that these postures demand a combination of strength and flexibility, and one's ability to "perform" them after doing a lot of things that take a lot of effort and also doing them every day, consistently. Yes, there are many challenging moments in the first series, but this cluster of poses can either make or break you, they take no prisoners, there is no faking it, you either have it or you don't. The thing is, you might peek your head up over these "hump poses" that split primary in two for a moment and see what asanas follow and think "I can do those! Those are easy! Why can't I just to them?" This is the magical moment where you either push through and figure it out, give up, or stay where you are for a long time.

I am finding that second series is much like this. Once I was used to primary and became "proficient", or whatever, the sweating stopped. The poses of second series which I began to practice were fun. I left practice every day energized and feeling like I could do even more. It was sweet while it lasted. Soon enough I came to realize that there were "hump poses" in second series as well--tittibhasana, pincha mayurasana, karandavasana, mayurasana, nakrasana. Although I am practicing up until mayurasana, I know nakrasana will take some mental strength, but over this fence, the grass looks fairly green. I wonder if eventually it will feel how primary feels now: like an old friend. That will be the day. For now, I am covered in sweat, slowly peddling up a mountain.

What I have been up to

All done!

Living Mysore July Magazine