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!

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. 

Yoga Chikitsa: Led Ashtanga Primary Series

As I was completely absorbed with publishing the new magazine (check it out at www.livingmysore.com), I did not have time at all to practice or do anything else yesterday. So today, before attacking that overflowing pile of stinky laundry next to the computer, I broke out Sharath's Primary Series CD and went to Mysore for one hour and fifteen minutes.

I bought this CD a couple of years ago while I was doing an intensive over at the Ashtanga Yoga Shala so that I could learn how classes are really supposed to be counted. After having been in Mysore, I can honestly say that this is an excellent way to experience a led class the way it is taught by Sharath. I really learned how ashtanga teaches us to use an economy of movement; to really move with mindfulness and place things exactly where we mean to place them. There is also no room at all for thinking because you are listening so carefully for the next vinyasa count. It is just so precise in its simplicity. I just love it!

I haven't practiced with the CD for a while, but I remember that when I first got it, I was struggling to keep up in headstand and upluthih. So you can imagine my surprise when I could stay up this time! Slowly, slowly...

I did practice at home, however, which has its drawbacks. The first being that it is really cold (but not cold enough for me to rationalize turning on the heat, which we pay for). Well, actually, that's the only drawback. It is cold energetically and physically. Part of what gets me through practice is the community.

And after sitting at the computer ALL DAY yesterday, I was so achy today. It makes me feel very worried for all those stuck in front of a computer 9-5. This is not how we are supposed to live!

Also, because it was laundry day, I had no proper practice clothing left ie a reliable sports bra. This really changes practice. More on this and teaching the led primary later...

My first class at AYRI

I woke up this morning at 4am again. I tossed and turned. This time I think more from being anxious and excited than from jet lag. The first class of the morning was at 5am and it was like part of me new that people were up practicing. Saturdays there is no practice. It was a moonday on Saturday, but here they applied it on Sunday. As Sunday is usually the led class day and we had this Sunday off, today (Monday) was led day.

Definitions of mysore and led style ashtanga yoga click here.

The first led class as I said was at 5 am. I think that up until today they actually do a led second series in that session, but apparently there just weren't enough 2nd series people and A LOT of first series people, so they did 2 1st series classes.

Anyway, I took another bucket shower and I tried to take a picture of the setup but the digital camera isn't adjusting well to life in India unfortunately. I took my time getting ready and walked a slowly as I could to practice. I got there at like 6:45 and went inside to the waiting area. There were already many students crowded all over the floor looking through the double doors (which were open) at the early class practicing. Note: there is a sign that says no pictures or videos allowed, so I'll respect that and not take any. sorry everyone!

After class, students rushed to get spots for their mats for the next class at 6:15. The first class actually ended at 6:30, so we started at like 6:40. It was really great. The biggest tip i have is DO NOT GO FAST! We always tell students this and remind ourselves but people always go to fast because it is hard to go slow and keep an even pace. The difference is when Sharath is standing on our mat and your staring at his toes in chatarunga, you better not go to upward dog!

On the left is chaturanga dandasana.

On the right is upward facing dog.

You can tell which is easier to hold.

I felt really light today, which was nice. Everything was going fine until headstand. Oh headstand. Sharath counts very slow in headstand. If I have one piece of advice to someone going to mysore its work on holding headstand for a LONG time. I barely just barely made it to nine breaths. I was shaking and trying so so hard. I had to come down. He shouted "come back up!" to me. So I came back up as he made it to 15. Then down I went. "Come back up!" he said again. So I came into a headstand prep position instead of the 2nd variation. "Come back up!"

He said again and if it wasn't already clear that he was speaking to me, he put me in the position and didn't let me come down. My little arms were shaking and trying so hard! Its funny because during the class, people slowly are asked to stop along the way, so not everyone does the full primary series, they are asked to sit and watch and wait until back bends to re-join the class. But honestly there were many many people who barely made it half way through primary, and I was one of like 5 people (There had to be like 100 hundred people in that room) who couldn't keep up the headstand. And out of those 5 people who needed help, Sharath came over to torture/help me. The next pose that I was dying in was the very last pose, uthplutih. I had heard that it was torture and I remember it was bad when I practiced with guruji in NY, but its a lot like childbirth. You forget how much it hurts! I honestly have never felt my stomach work in headstand uthplutih like I did today! Notice that this guy is completely lifted off the floor. While Sharath very very very slowly counts to 10. The whole time he walks around saying "lift up, lift up! Don't be lazy!" He took us straight to lie down after this instead of closing mantra and we laid there for maybe 3 minutes before he said "ok, you can go home now."

After class I waited in line by his office to give him the rest of the money I forgot to pay him the day before. "___, come in", he said. I left stunned (he knew my name!) They (Sharath and Guruji) are notorious for not remembering people's names.