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.
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.
