Yoga made me do it

I yelled and I apologized. I had the worst day and the best. I saw Grace bleed through a moment of connection with the universe in a Mysore hospital as a nervous doctor trembled with a needle making a hole too small for his eyes to see and his hands to handle. We came away laughing and smiling.

--Again the old me knew the new me needed to hope and plan and couldn't handle waiting one day more and I'm so glad I got the days wrong because now I get a happy heart and no goodbyes. --

We reclined side by side on cushions in the dark talking about feeling real human connection and the shadow of the trees outside danced on the wall to the music playing on the battery power. All we hear between our words is the pouring rain. I know it is a distraction. I know I'm running away from myself, but it is amazing and absolutely intoxicating and I'm going to fall into someone else anyway.

Everything is God

This time I'm resting on my back and all I can think of is how amazing it is that I'm lying here. My friend told me that every day she wakes up and thanks God she is here doing this. I thought it was sweet but now I'm feeling it.

A while back before ashtanga I was in corpse pose at the end of a yoga class. I was lying there and feeling my bones touch the ground. I could feel my organs and my flesh and all I could think about was how this is decaying and before I know it I will be dead.

This time I'm thinking about life. How amazing it is to be lying here. My legs work my arms work. I am alive. And even the stupid crap that pisses me off is pretty amazing. Thinking about God or Goddess or universe or whatever makes you think about how much whatever is happening is so small so insignificant and at the same time, it is all that ever existed.

Sharath is amazing. Assisting someone in supta vajrasana is not easy. Usually you sit over their crossed legs and I always have a bit of a challenge applying the right amount of weight. Sharath walks over and places his toes on my shins and I drop back as he stands over me shouting and gesturing with his arms at people around the room. Something big, something small. Looking up he is a giant and I'm so small. It ended with "Bakasana".

In bakasana, you balance on your hands with your knees on the backs of your arms and your knees bent up toward your rear forming you into a little ball. In the second variation of the posture, you have to jump into this position.

So after I get bakasana I'm on my mat thinking about how amazing this is and thinking about God and all that feeling life is this incredible joyous experience. I walk outside. I sit on my bike. I forget how to stand. I fall over and the bike falls with me. The guy with the pushcart that sells oranges laughs. The woman cleaning the driveway of the salon gasps and takes her hands to her cheeks. I laugh and get up and wipe mud off my back. In the end I'm just this ridiculous clown and some falling is just what I needed.

Getting crazy with bakasana:
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=abBwccUCFEU

A good spot

The first class of the day starts around 4:30am. You get a practice time of maybe 4:45 or 5 but everyone knows that means 4:30 if you want to be able to get "your" spot. That's right, the space you like gets permanently assigned to you by Patanjali. Yeah, I'm definitely joking. People get really possessive with their practice spaces. Me? I like to move around. Even more, I like being in the later classes where you take what ever space opens up. I'd like to think that fate picked that spot for me today, thanks. It just has a nice sound to it.

Today I was assigned the space in the back corner next to the dressing room. I thought this would not be fun because I imagined the hoards of people that would be marching in and out of that door. Actually, it was nice. It made me focus even more. My last pose today was my new pose: supta vajrasana. In Supta Vajrasana (which means sleeping or supine thunderbolt pose), you sit on your mat with your legs in a lotus position. Then, you swing your arms behind your back and catch your toes. Someone holds your legs down and you lean back and put your head on the floor behind yourself a few times with some breathing. That's it.

Saraswati came and sat on my legs. It seems funny that someone could mess up sitting on your legs, but believe me, there is a proper method and Saraswati had it down. Here is a clip of Guruji assisting someone in Supta Vajrasana at the 2002 Ashtanga Yoga World Tour in New York.

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=j2-ga9Zgv94

What day is this?

Shattered-- that's how I feel. I somehow made it to the dressing room to do my finishing poses. I slapped down my mat and reclined. My eyes open, my eyes closed, the room spinning. I wonder if this is how a broken piece of glass feels. It is the same thing, only now in a different form. My back is split open like a nut shell like a orange peel, like a pomegranate, like an exoskeleton. Yes, that's it, I feel like a lobster. The room is still spinning. What happened in there?

Some people say that the pain will come and go. Some say that it will increase over time. Some that it will decrease. This pain is an indication of change. I'm changing. Growing pains. But is this really pain? It feels more like a train stopping abruptly. Or like when the ocean pulls you under. Or a deck of cards being shuffled. I'm not in pain, I'm just overwhelmed, I'm just trying really hard, I'm really just changing. There are no words for any of it, just confusion and experience and then already almost a month has past and I don't know what exactly I have been doing this whole time. I know time is passing because tomorrow is supta vajrasana.

parampara

"Don't break my back," Sharath laughs. Funny, but not. Everyone knows he has had some back pain problems the last year and I just jumped back and gave him a big kick as he sat helping the person behind me. I'm looking over my shoulder in upward facing dog feeling guilty but also laughing because Sharath is laughing too.

Yesterday in conference--Sharath holds a "conference" every Sunday where he either discusses a topic or he answers students' questions--Sharath spoke about the tradition of parampara in Indian culture in general and ashtanga yoga in particular. Beginning with a story of a teacher/student relationship, he went on to discuss the importance of the transmission of direct knowledge from student to teacher in ashtanga yoga. He spoke about the authorization and certification process and that, really, people who come to Mysore and really are here to do the work, are here to learn the nature of yoga--which is the realization of the self. So, when we aren't practicing, he said to read read read. And if you still have time, volunteer...

He emphasized that we are all here to learn and to practice and that whether you are weak in body or mind or both, with time the practice will help to heal you. In that spirit, he joked about the shala's own "application process", how it's like "oh, nice picture you come". He said that so many people come and really they don't send anyone away no matter what level or state they are in and that he doesn't regret it one bit. His saying this really affected all of us because we all kind of looked inside for a moment and thought about how none of us are perfect and we are all trying our best, but so are the people who we might not think of. Everyone "deserves" to be here, everyone gets a chance. It's funny how he always seems to address in conference whatever people are talking about in the community.

Coordinate 12° 18′ 0″ N, 76° 39′ 0″ E

Across from my house there is a little manicured park. It is surrounded by a fence that I haven't yet crossed. There are bushes and trees with a Victorian aesthetic sprinkled sporadically on the green grass. A path follows the perimeter and morning and night Indians in ones or twos march with purpose around and around. Normally I accept the park as part of the landscape and it just fades into the rest of my backdrop of India landscape but sometimes I stop on my way down the stairs and notice just how green, how dewy, how beautiful this little park is. This morning there was a woman wrapped in a sari sitting on a bench with her fingers and hands pressed up into her face. She was performing a kriya (a yogic cleansing exercise) in the middle of the park-- in public.

Earlier than that I walked down the road to practice. Parts of the road are dirt, parts are paved. Sometimes it is quite muddy and my slippers flick mud up the back of my legs and shirt. Stray dogs trot in packs and the air smells strongly of cow poop. This is before the sounds of birds chirping. This is before the sound of sweeping and slapping clothes against rocks. It is before people start honking and vendors push rickety carts of plastic bags, fruit, blankets down the road. It is before the smells of miscellaneous burning objects mix with masala, onions, and dung. It is dark and it is quiet and when I look up, I can see the moon and stars peeking through the palm trees.

I am in the middle of led class today and I can feel myself practicing, the person next to me, the person behind me. We are chanting the opening mantra and I hear myself squeaking beneath the whole room of voices. The whole world exists where I am looking: the tip of my nose, my foot, my hand. It extends to the people in my peripheral vision and we're all breathing and moving together. I realize that I'm moving and not moving because Sharath is telling me to. I'm located here in India right now. It is still weird.

You have to surrender/ Sharath interview

There's a line in the sand, a divide, between those who don't mind the squat toilet and those who do, between those who insist on toilet paper and those who don't, those squatting for their shower and those brushing their teeth with bottled and filtered water, those who eat the street food and those who bring their own coconut straws. How much of experiencing India is letting go? How much of it is accepting the circumstances? How much of it is storming ahead? How much of it is adapting? Where is the divide between becoming Indian? Pretending to be Indian? Orientalizing the experience? What about becoming the ugly American? How much do we have to try and how much should we just be ourselves?

Some people avoid Saraswati*. She is very nice and loving, but they don't want her helping them. There are many reasons that people give as to why but I don't subscribe to them at the moment. I only get adjustments in back bending and in the past I've had moments where I looked into her eyes and pleaded for an easier variation (just up and down and then hands to the floor instead of to my legs). The thing is that if she were my dance partner, we'd be stepping all over each other's toes. She'd be leading but I couldn't count her steps. So I'd try to lead but she'd reinforce that she was the man, etc. But now I see that I'm getting stronger and that I'm starting to think that I understand what she's trying to tell me and it is working. People complain that she let's go of them when she grabs for their hands and they're arched backwards dangling their arms on the brink of collapse. I've realized that OMG I can stand by myself! Amazing!

The other day after conference I saw her sitting in the office and something told me to go inside. I didn't know what I was going to say but I had this really overwhelming emotion about how people would avoid her in class. I asked her if I could sit and then something came over me and I started blabbering.

"I just wanted to say thank you and this week you've been helping me in back bending and I feel like this big opening..." I might have kept blabbering but the sound was blotted out by the sobs. I started crying and gulping air. She looked at me with her big gleaming eyes and smiled. I asked myself what the muck just happened? as I stepped out of the door.

*Saraswati is Pattabhi Jois' (Guruji's) daughter. She is in her 60's and teaches at AYRI (the shala) alongside her son, Sharath, who is the director. She has her own class in the "late" morning and assists Sharath in the "main shala" classes.
Recent interview with Sharath
I just read this really great interview by Guy in New York. I really recommend reading it.

Monsoon

When it rains in Mysore we just don't go anywhere and it's nice because I don't have to worry about being late for anything. Sometimes I pinch myself to see if it is true--if there really isn't anywhere I have to be or anything I have to do. It's interesting how easily I've accepted this new scenario and how I still find myself feeling somewhat surprised just once in a while.

I suppose one could say that a good amount of rain should be expected during monsoon season. However, based on last year, I didn't expect much this time around. I was slightly mistaken. It has been drizzling on and off about every other day. The sky looks more like the skies of Scotland than the technicolor blues in the "Jungle Book" (the Disney version of course). The guide book says that this means clothes that never really dry and emit that moldy strawberry smell, intestinal bugs, mosquito bites, malaria. The make believe "ashtanga almanac" says this means achy joints, sore muscles, slowed digestion, and sleeping all day. I say it means raw chocolate pudding and movies but I'm no expert.

Rooms bathed in melancholic weather, cups of chai, and clouds of incense are good places for contemplation and with all the recent events in the ashtanga community, there seems to be a good bit to think about. Some though bubbles I've seen floating contained:

-Are you here just for the practice or do you expect to get authorized?
-If you're authorized, can you sustain a healthy income just by teaching Mysore?
-Is the authorization/certification process fair?
-Is "the practice" only the asanas and if not, how far does it extend into our everyday dramas?
-When studying in Mysore, where does one's native culture end and India's begin?
-How do we honor a tradition while maintaining our every day lives?

I'm not sure that there are any right or wrong answers to any of these questions but I do think it is a good opportunity to evaluate or own motives, thoughts, and intentions. It is always good to ask "why".

The truth is that this tradition as we know it is still very young in the large scheme of things and we're all still trying to work out what it means.

Sharath hasn't really talked to us students yet about the "changes" to the studying process (6 month minimum between trips), the auth/cert process, or the transfer of content to the ayri website. However, in conference this week, he touched upon the cultural implications of studying in Mysore by emphasizing the importance of the yamas and niyamas.

(From wikipedia)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raja_Yoga

Yama

Main article: Yamas

Yama consists of five parts: Ahimsa (non-violence), Satya (truthfulness), Asteya (non-stealing), Brahmacharya (celibacy), and Aparigraha (non-covetousness). Ahimsa is perfect harmlessness and positive love also. This removes the brutal nature in man and strengthens the will.

The scientific basis of the Yama instructions may be explained in this way.

The five directives of Yama lay down behavioral norms as prerequisites for elimination of fear and angst and contribute to a tranquil mind. Nonviolence (ahimsa), truthfulness (satyavachana), non-stealing (astheya), child-like behavior (brahmacharya), and moderation in setting goals (aparigraha), prevent situations that evoke fear in human interactions and contribute to peace of mind.

Ahimsa (non-violence) helps to avoid conflicts with fellow human beings that normally occur because of competition for eating and mating. Hurting a person physically or mentally leads to fear of retaliation which disturbs peace of mind.

Satyavachan (truthfulness) helps peace of mind by eliminating fear of discovery of lies. Untruth implies maintaining two versions of an event, possibly in the same set of neurons, thus causing confusion and mental disturbance.

Astheya (non-stealing) eliminates the anxiety of discovery of theft, potential reprisal by the owner and/or punishment by state. Brahmacharya (celibacy or stage of life devoted to seeking knowledge) averts conflict associated with search for mates, eliminates fear of strife, enhances scholarship and upgrades equanimity.

Aparigraha (moderation in setting goals) prevents angst of potential failure, promotes self-control and poise.

Niyama

Main article: Niyama

Niyama is observance of five canons: Shaucha (internal and external purity), Santosha (contentment), Tapas (austerity), Svadhyaya (study of religious books and repetitions of Mantras), and Ishvarapranidhana (self-surrender to God, and His worship).

He who practises meditation without ethical perfection, without the practice of Yama-Niyama cannot obtain the fruits of meditation. Purify your mind first through the practice of Yama-Niyama. Then practice regular meditation. Then you will attain illumination.

Science underslying Niyama can be presented as follows.

Niyama unlike Yama prescribes mental exercises to train the mind to control emotions: (Saucha), (Santosha), (Tapaha), (Svadhyaya) and (Ishwara pranidhanani).

Saucha (Purity of thought) requires active monitoring of the mind from being obsessed with material or corporeal desires.

Santosha (Contentment) prevents desire to obtain, experience and /or accumulate objects of pleasure.

Tapaha (Austere or ascetic life style), by practicing self-denying and austere life style controls fondness for desire-generated emotions.

Svadhyaya (Study about self) enlightens the true nature of human nature and facilitates healthy thoughts.

Ishwara pranidhanani (Surrender of ego to God) makes it easier to be not self-centered by aiming at higher goals.

Thus Niyama instructions prepare the mind to control animal (reptilian brain- generated) and human (cerebral) emotions.

A week in review: Poop, Poses, Sharath, Gommateshwara, Wild beasts, and Ayurvedic Massages

Daily posts are better. A lot happens in a day and now I have to mush them all together. I am scrambling to catch up. But I'll try. This sounds like a long post but actually I get distracted and it starts to taper off at the end.

Poop:

There is that scary moment when you are about to crap your pants for real. You feel this curling cold sensation up the back of your neck. It's panic because you know that you could easily loose control of your bodily functions and be stuck cleaning shit out of your pant leg in about an hour's time. Your mind realizes that actually many of your bodily functions happen on their own and if you begin to doubt your ability to control them at this point, you're going to be in serious trouble.

I was farting these real stinky ones at a friend's house. He gave me a very large dose of wormwood extract and grapefruit seed extract because the farts smelled a lot like eggs which could mean giardia and the extracts will kill anything. I drank it down and started the walk home. What I didn't know was that this concoction was like the five point palm-exploding heart technique, five steps out the door and two farts later, I had a fart that was not going to be a fart at all. Gross but true. What's an India story without some dilemma of the bowels?

Okay so I knew I really had to go right away. So I walked faster and then the mind started going and questioning and I started running. I contemplated squatting in the bushes but the possibility of an unexpected meeting with a cobra kept me running. My bowels knew I was close to my house before anything else and a good punch in the belly had me sweating and running faster but running is tricky when you're about to crap your pants so it was more of a quick waddle...Let's end it there. I didn't crap my pants. The end.

Poses:
Yesterday I got parsva dhanurasana, ustrasana, and laghu vajrasana. Today I got a stamp of approval and also got kapotasana.

Sharath:
More on this later. But--apparently we're supposed to read. Imagine! Also we're supposed to be thinking more about the yamas and niyamas. But what are those? Hmm.

Gommateshwara:
Is this big ole statue that we drove a long way to see. We had to walk up the stairs--barefoot--to see it. Fun.

Wild beasts:
The zoo is cool. People are crazy.

Ayurvedic Massage:
Is nice.

So I think it is obvious that I need to be in a quiet space to write. Thanks for helping to shape this post John.

Preview/Letters home from the frontline

Okay fine I'm back.

Here is a preview of what will come later today when I'm not under a 5 minute deadline commandeered by a pot of boiling beans...

-On how I almost shit myself--for real!
-New poses
-Sharath talks about the importance of the Yamas and Niyamas and *gasp* reading
-The world's largest penis? A barefoot walk up a big hill to see a big guy
-The Mysore Zoo and the other wild beasts of Mysore
-Another Ayurvedic rubdown

This and more coming soon :)

What to do

The truth is that so far this trip has been me stepping in and then getting shook upside down by my ankles with everything flailing and change falling out of my pockets, etc. I'm questioning everything. Nothing seems real, everything seems real, nothing the way it was, and yet really clear that this is how is has always been. In short, as in practice, what has changed is me.

With this in mind, I'm doing a lot of thinking about what my priorities are and what they ought to be, what my intention is, and where I'm putting my efforts. It seems that one way to do this is to set fire to everything and then sort through to see what remains. Another way is to hold one object/concept in each hand and see if I can tell which is more important, more real, more valid, useful, and which isn't. This method is a little more challenging because we all get so attached to things we think we are--but really we are nothing.

Specifically, I'm going back and forth on what I'm doing here in India, studying at AYRI, my "career", Livingmysore.com, this blog, as well as some other things (or are they "commitments"?). So, this means that this blog in particular has an uncertain fate. I haven't made any final decisions yet, but because of this process, I've been absent from writing lately. I'm debating whether or not I'd like to go private as I'm pretty sure I want to keep writing. Tough decision though, considering I feel very strongly about sharing and access to information and all. Hmm.

Update

I didn't die of rabies and neither did the dog (in case you were wondering). No. My absence is a result of something else. Call it writer's block if you like. I have nothing to write. Yes I'm here doing all my silly little India things, absorbing a lot, but a little bit unable to process at the moment. I'm still learning how to balance on two feet. Maybe I should just keep it simple.

Southern Star Hotel Breakfast Buffet is tasty.
Sandhya's looked tasty but I was stuffed with the breakfast buffet.
Sandalwood factory sounds fun.
Lunar eclipse on Sunday so no practice until Monday.
Sunday's afternoon conference is canceled on account of the moonday.
I'm reading "First there is a mountain" but can't get into it.

There--that's a start.

On nothing at all

I haven't been in to practice for the last few days but I suppose that technically, every moment is practice. I'm riding the scooter which is so much fun and always questioning what is really me and what is conditioned. Yes, that was me drinking coffee at breakfast the last three days. Yes, that was me on the right side of the road but mostly I've got the left thing down (it is a lot less strict than hand differentiation).

I've reached the end of my dizzying catapult into this new place and am now starting to make out the edges of all the boundaries. Like where I end and where nothing begins. I'm starting to realize that there is no other lump in the bed besides my pillow and that the loss of human connection is a hole that is not easily filled. I'm beginning to remember the spoons. I want this month to go quickly so that you'll arrive sooner, but I want it to go slow because this is all the time we have.

Tomorrow I'm back at the shala and I feel like it is where I'm supposed to be (naturally). It just makes sense. I feel like I have no say in what happens from day to day but have all the say in what I attach. Or maybe it's just the altitude. You know who you are.

Scooty's are for girls

So I have a Kinetic.

"You have licence?"
"Oh yes, international."
"But you are riding?"
"First time."
Head wobble/smile.
Head wobble/smile.
"Helmet?"
"Okay okay--tomorrow."
Head wobble/smile.
Head wobble/smile.
Done and done.

It is a little bulky, a little old, a little toy-like, but I'm having fun. So far, me and the Kinetic have had an oil infusion, a visit to the mechanic, new spark plugs, a couple of kick starts, an unreliable gas gauge, and a finicky start button. I feel like I'll be an expert soon enough. Plus I think I have an extra advantage considering I got my crash course in Indian scooter driving from an Indian. "So when do I honk again?" I ask over and over. "Whenever anything is moving?"

It isn't so easy learning how to ride with a passenger. It makes it much more challenging for the beginner to balance the weight. "Do not get a motorcycle," my teacher tells me. "I can tell you that 100% you will fall." One has to appreciate the honesty. And here I am almost a week later wondering how I managed to ever do without. The fun part? It is easier to balance the faster you go...

Coffee Invigoration

And there I was, covered in muck, inhaling coffee and thinking about childhood.

I was two years old again with a big cup of milky sweet coffee in which I dipped my gigantic breakfast cookies (champararas). We had journeyed to visit family in some overgrown bougainvillea Latin country and I never wanted to leave. Not that I knew that then. But now that I am inhaling the aroma of my roots, I know that I want to go back. And I want a cup of coffee real bad.

A friend had this incredible idea that we should spend our day of rest (Saturdays there is no yoga class) at the Windflower Hotel spa called Emerge. A car would pick us up at the coconut stand and the rest would be pure bliss. We drove about 25 minutes across the city and into a remote area with lots of vegetation and a view of the mountains. The hotel was beautiful with lots of open space and manicured gardens, etc. It took a while to pick my poison, but I settled on the "Coffee invigoration massage" which consisted of 90 minutes of pure relaxation and invigoration and anti cellulite super powers (or so the menu said).

I was escorted into a lovely treatment room, got kind of naked and sat in a wooden chair. I had two therapists. One placed my feet in a rosewater soak while the other gave me a head oil massage followed by back, neck, and shoulders. After I was sufficiently incapacitated, they led me to a wood table where I was given the ayurvedic oil rubdown followed by a coffee scrub and mask. I was covered in goo. It was fabulous!

Guest Blogger: Jordana

Yoga newbie, Jordana, shares a glimpse of her practice today with Ajay (one of the "other" ashtanga yoga teachers).

Although my life is moving slowly, my days are still filled with adventures, mishaps and a lot of bendy body positions.

Every Thursday "Ah Jay" holds a special class called "Vinyasa class". [This is not one of those flow-happy ashtanga variations popular in the west. Instead, it is a class which focuses largely on the "vinyasa" part of the ashtanga practice.] It is hard to explain what a vinyasa is but basically he wants me to sit cross legged, then using my arm and ab strength to lift my entire body off of the ground, move my legs through my arms and end in a push up position. I tried to tell him that my legs just don't fit through my arms. His response..."madame Jordana...you are much silly." Strangely enough, after an hour of squeezing, contorting, and sweating through every piece of clothing I had on, I made about an inch of progress. Better luck next Thursday.

The class then continued to include shoulder and hip opening. Being new to yoga I obviously have very closed shoulders so Ah Jay paired me with an advanced student...Nilesh. Nilesh is from Delhi and is doing his teacher training. He has a long pony tail, is quite hairy and does yoga in a small pair of bicycle shorts. To open my shoulders, I sat cross legged and crossed my arms behind my back, Nilesh sat across from me in a straddle position with his thighs resting on my thighs for extra pressure and then held my hands (which are still crossed behind my back). I don't know if you can completely get the pose, very hard to describe, but the point is....it was very close and very sweaty! At first I was a little bit uncomfortable when the sweat dripped from his forehead onto my chest, but within time....NAMASTE! Woah India.

The "locked in" story

From the sordid tales and mixed up files of Mysore Musings, I bring you the terrific and harrowing tale of Jordana and Aliza...(aka the "locked in" story).

My Air India flight companions were the sub-continent newbies from Canada known as Jordana and Aliza. After battling the impossible, they secured a wonderfully located apartment near the shala etc. One of the many benefits of this particular property is the almost daily maid service (general cleaning--never the toilet--plus laundry). Jordana is at Anu's while Aliza is coating her face with bright green (was it?) face mask. A maid approached outside and upon reaching the front door (a screen door with metalwork permitting unauthorized entry)--knocked. Thinking no one was home, the maid entered with her own key. Unawares of the announced visitor, Aliza walks out to the living room and greets a bewildered maid. The maid doesn't speak English and Aliza doesn't speak Kannada. The maid wants her laundry, Aliza doesn't want washing today. The maid gestures with her arm--chop! Aliza says "no" by shaking her head realizing it was more of a head wobble and might mean yes. The maid thinks it is yes and moves onto more explicit demonstrations.

The maid pushes past Aliza into her bedroom, reaches under the bed, and retrieves a machete.
Aliza's face is--well, you can only imagine.

The maid motions again-chop! Aliza: Um...no thanks. The maid is back in the living room, Aliza slips into her room and closes the door. The maid leaves.

When Aliza emerges a little later to meet Jordana across the street for a meal, she realizes that she is locked in.

You see, in India, regardless of whether or not there is a "regular" lock on your door, there is usually also one of these locks. Not exactly sure why this would be commonly located outside the door. Perhaps many families have crazy uncles or other shut-ins? Who knows. Anyway, the maid had locked Aliza in from the outside. She had no cellphone. She waited. And she waited. And then she started banging on the door, begging pedestrians to let her out. Eventually Ganesh hears the commotion and maybe even sees Aliza's chin poking between the bars on her screen door. "Jordana!" He calls, "I think your friend needs you!"

Just a warning

Reading this or any blog could be constituted as a distraction.

Just thought you ought to be made aware of this.

I thought I might as well ask and please feel free to give your honest opinion...

Is this blog a bad thing? Should I take it down? Or make it private? Is it the antithesis of what I'm trying to do? Is it worth it?

I met a couple of people today who kindly told me that it was definitely a detriment to society. Is that how you feel too?

I'm not writing for anyone but myself. I hope that my family and friends can use it as a window into what I'm up to because sometimes it's hard for me to say what I mean in person and to keep up emails. And for those of you who have stumbled across, I hope you get something out if it too.

I await your responses.

Shipwrecked part 2

[I'm the rag doll and India is the person.]

"I love you wake up!" Huh huh what? I heard that. My eyes open.

[How it actually happened.]

John and I are standing in front of across-the-park-house-number-one negotiating a room price with the owner. That's when the landlady's not so nice German Shepard jumped o to the fence, wiggled part way through, and bit me on my arm. "Your dog just bit me!" She smiles and wags her head "you wash".

The other time was when on my way to practice I heard some leaves on the side of the road rustle. I looked expecting a bird and instead saw the cutest tiniest stumbliest puppy in the whole world. (Really, it was that cute.) I mentally calculated my estimated time in India, what I projected for the next 5-10 years and had enough self knowledge to turn around and continue down the road to the shala. Five hours later I'm sitting at the coconut stand when I notice that same puppy in the arms of a small boy walking along side his plastic bag collecting family and I smile.

Okay okay I'm here.

Shipwrecked

Sometimes you have to just start from the beginning. It sucks because everything demands effort and it is almost impossible to let our attachment to the fruits of our labor go but in order to transform, it has to happen. Destruction as a form of creation because nothing is ever as it once was.

And so as I settle in, I notice that maybe people smile a little differently, the rickshaw fares have gone up, does he or doesn't he (Sharath) remember my name? Stupid little things that mean nothing but the newness still shocks the system. It's like sliding into a pair of old sandals that once fit like a glove but now your foot rests clumsily inside--different now than the imprint of the past you's foot. Same same only different.

Tired, but feeling considerably less of the jet lag. I suspect establishing some sort of routine this time around has been helpful. I still must admit that I feel completely sucked dry from all of it: leaving my love back home, family, friends, my teacher, my shala, everything to start all over from the beginning again here in Mysore. I wonder if it is like this every time you come. Everything is erased and you start from the beginning and as your experience matures, it takes less and less time to acclimate.

For instance, in practice at the end of last year's trip and in practice in New York, I found back bending after a primary only practice to be torture (relatively speaking of course). But after having my body completely destroyed in all the traveling since Thursday, I feel like the slate was wiped and leveled the playing field. Everything felt stiff and by the end I stopped thinking about it and my mind wandered to how lonely I felt, how sad I was, and what the fuck was I doing here because this is such a fucking joke. I'm doing wheels...123...and then I stand up and standing toe to toe and nose to nose is Sharath. "Oh hi!" I say. He smiles. "I have two more"I say. He tells me he'll wait (he doesn't always). I want to cry inside or maybe laugh because everything is going to be alright and it is. That's what it is like here. You are thrown into a pool and told to swim. That's how you learn. Even if you can't, they'll let you hit your edge and save you before you drown.

Tina opened her new breakfast place today on the other side of KRS Road. It was so good to see her and enjoy a little comfort food. I usually dive into the act of eating but since I've gotten here I've felt a bit detached from it. My mind is somewhere else but I'm not sure where. When I find out, I'll be sure to let myself know.

It's shala time! / my first day back at AYRI

My brain is having a hard time putting together cohesive thoughts and what does come out are bursts of jittery fragmented ideas with no transitions from one concept to the other. I think this is jet lag.

I went back and forth a bit yesterday--do I register or do I not? I decided to leave it up to the fates. If I got my pin number for my debit card right, I would go on and register, if I got it wrong, I wouldn't. I grabbed my bag and walked down the road to the shala passing through the day-long tree cutting project in its first stages (by the end of the day, it was all gone and in the process was complete chaos). Heavy limbs were falling, people were gathered around yelling "watch out!" and I was tip toeing over branches and leaves as a heavy limb fell a few feet behind me.

There is a man that always hangs out in front of the shala. You go to him and tell him what you need and he generally points you in the right direction with a grin. "Can I register?" He wags his head and motions for me to follow him inside the shala (which is also where Pattabhi Jois -- Guruji -- and his family live). "I need to get money first." He wags again and sits down. I walk around the corned to the State Bank etc. to try my luck at numbers. I'm rolling over the possible combinations. You see, I thought I had the pin written down, but threw it away in one of the mass purges last week which obviously wasn't the brightest moment in my career. I thought I new it, but the more I thought about it, was that 2 a 6?, the 8 a 0?, the 1 a 7?, and so on. I think about things visually and as I pictured the code scrawled on that paper, the numbers morphed form one to the other. I enter the atm room, shove the card in a few times, pound in the password too many times and get my card blocked. Great.

At this point, I'm pretty much set on practicing the following morning (Sunday) and so walk back to the shala and tell shala man that I broke my card and so don't have money but can I still register please? He makes a face that says it all and then tells me to go ask Sharath. I climb the infamous shala stairs, past clusters of havaianas to which I add my own and step into the waiting room/vestibule of the shala. The door to the shala is open and I step inside onto the massive area rugs. As I peek into the office, I see that there are many people gathered and decide that I better wait my turn. I pace in the waiting room for what seems like years until the other students come out and I head in.

First, I see Guruji who is sitting in the chair behind the desk wearing a skull cap. Sharath is standing next to him and offers me a seat. This is when I start spewing sentences and stumbling over my words like a drug addict in withdrawal. He tells me to come back the next day at 4:45am to register with the money. Now I really need to get the money.

I call the bank, I call everyone, I lose hope, it works out (thanks Kim), I get the cash, and then hit the hay at about 7pm and wake up this morning at 3:30am for practice/registration.

It is very quiet and very dark outside except for the occasional creak of a gate or slapping of a yoga student's flip flops on the way to class. It is important to realize before anything else that the clocks in the shala are about 15 minutes in advance, this is also known as "shala time". You walk through the dark alongside silent faces to the front gate and then you wait. By now it is 4:30am. By a quarter till, shala man opens the gates and the usually quietly composed and serene yoga students push each other like fiends up the stairs and squeeze through the doors to get a space. One might assume that there is a spot for everyone, however, not all spots are created equal.

The bum spots:
1. By an open window -- breeze and mosquito central
2. Next to a wall -- you have to move and re orientate yourself during some of the postures or risk running into the wall
3. By the bathroom -- the ceiling is low and some people can't extend their arms over their heads
4. In the dressing room and waiting room -- breezy, mosquitoes, and you're not really a part of the group
5. The hump -- the shala floors are made of marble (or is it granite?) and are covered with massive multi-colored area rugs. At the places where the mats layer one another, a hump is formed. When it is really crowded, your mat might be moved on top of this making practice very awkward, lopsided, and uncomfortable

My spot today? Next to Nuno (of Portugal) and Lea (Ashtanga Canarias) on the far left side of the room. I practiced here a bit last year and I guess that as far as spots go it was great!

After putting my mat down, I went straight to the office to register. I was relieved that Sharath didn't laugh in my face and say that he meant 4:45 in the afternoon. I sat down, filled out the application and promised to bring my photo and passport tomorrow. I gave him the shala fees (27, 530 rupees which is a huge stack of bills) and he filled out a registration card with my name, date, expiration, and mysore practice time of 7am. Nice! I flipped over the application to sign my agreement that I would not practice asana or pranayama with any other teachers in Mysore, stop when the teachers tell me, and there was one more stipulation but I don't remember what it was. Then, I gathered all my courage and asked Sharath about the poses from last year and how "it" works. One week of primary was his answer. So today I had the led class, then Monday through Thursday will be mysore style where I will practice primary series. On Friday and Sunday, I will go to the led first series class and then Monday I will practice mysore doing my full primary practice plus the second series postures I got last year up until Dhanurasana before I end with back bending and finishing poses.

Practice was electric. I was shaky, stiff, and slightly disoriented from the jet lag and days off from yoga. I sweat so much from all the traveling and from working so hard. Sharath teaches like no one else. Muscles become used and blatantly obvious in ways that I can never manage to create on my own. The hard moments were in utthita hasta padangustasana, navasana, sirsasana, and of course uthplutih. But I was proud of myself and how far I've come from last year. There is always a struggle, but at least I could keep up (twitching and all).

After practice, everyone heads outside for a coconut and then I headed home for a rest. I still am so excited that I am actually here!

India -- Round Two

My original intention (while I was scheming in the middle of some airport somewhere in India) was to publish my sleep deprived ramblings that covered 20 hours (or 2 days) -- same same only different -- but have since thought better of it. Not sure that I'm much more coherent 5 hours since I stopped keeping count, but at least I'm writing.

All that said, we (my two travel companions and I) were greeted on the tarmac with the simultaneous wave of humidity and unreasonable acts of kindness. We smiled the whole way. I dropped the pair off at the Green Hotel and have now planted myself in front of a friend's (with whom I plan to stay for a couple of days) computer . Some sandy-eyed reflection time, Chinese laxative tea, a shower, and a coconut are sure to set me right.

But the point? I've landed. I'm here. It feels like I have never left.