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

I've got a ticket to ride

I bought my ticket to Mysore this past week. Another step toward becoming official. It won't really feel real until the apartment gets emptier. Although now that I think that thought--"the apartment gets emptier"--I had the feeling of standing in this apartment when I first moved in. How completely empty it was and how quickly it can be that way again. How real everything feels in this moment, how heavy every object is around the house, and in a few months, it will all just be a memory.

But that is exactly why it has to be now. That is exactly why I have to go and uproot and begin this journey--because this life can very quickly disappear and will.

I once went to a Jivamukti class taught by my friend, Heather. There was a lot of talking at the beginning because it was after all a Jivamukti class. And as resistant as I am to sit and hear someone yap (a small price to pay for some fun and challenging sequencing), Heather always talks sense and gets me to soften up to the experience for what it is. That day in particular, she was talking about death. How every time you exhale you are dying. Absence of air, the end of breathing is death. Every time you exhale, you are jumping off a cliff. Every time you inhale, you are carried right back up to the top only to jump again. A chance to start all over again.

I'm taking the pranayama and philosophy course that my teacher, Guy, is offering. When we hold all the air out and retain, what is that? It is like dying and then floating there just because you can. Retaining the inhales and inhaling in general tends to be much more challenging to me. What is that all about? I've always considered myself a bit of an optimist. I suppose I've also been a bit manic depressant as well. Maybe I'm just like my former boss said-- "You are a sensation junkie." And she didn't even know the half of it.

Or maybe going to India will only feel real when I'm sitting on the plane watching the city get smaller below me.

If you like horror movies, I just saw "Teeth". Two words: vagina dentata.