Karandavasana is coming and practice guidelines for girls

Russell


Olaf


Unknown

Just some things in the back of my mind...(karandavasana is the next pose in second series.)

The thing is, women aren't really expected to come up from Karandavasana. The rare exception is just that--a rare exception. People say that you have to have really strong bandhas (which is probably one of the places where "bandhas like a man" came from). This implies that men have stronger bandhas than women. This bothers me very much. But what if it is true? What if we really do have different bodies and different capabilities and different practices?

Yesterday in conference, somehow the class got on to the subject of nauli kriya. In nauli kriya, one pulls the belly in and does a crazy sideways rippling massage thing.


Nauli kriya is supposed to be good for toning the digestive system and for improving the bandhas...however, Sharath said that if women want to have babies, they should never do it. Oops.

So, it seems there is a men's and women's practice.

Split in half

No great discoveries or insights to report today. Just woke up, practiced, and am now sitting in front of the computer before taking a nap.

One of the interesting things about cleansing, or simplifying one's diet in general, is that there is an opportunity to witness the effects foods have on the body. Too much sugar? Allergic to almonds? It becomes pretty clear what is making what happen when you're only eating fruit salads or juices or rice or vegetables or water. And since there are three of us almost consistently sharing meals, we notice how the food we eat affects not only our own bodies, but eachother's as well. We also have been able to support eachother during the occasional freakout session during which the freakee either does or does not recognize that they are in fact freaking out. "Hey. Hey! Don't freak out." We all keep saying it until it becomes true.

But I feel really great. The low end of my practice has been raised and if I felt like I had more in me, the bar would be crazy high too. I'm feeling a real connection with Sharath, which is obviously nice. Today in padmasana, I heard Sharath grumble something in front of me (he was sitting on the stage and I was in the front row). And then it was, "Elise garble garble garble". Huh? "Knee down in padmasana". And then he showed me. This was all inbetween counts during a led class with 80 students. This is such a small detail.

Although I feel like I am just getting settled, that it isn't yet time to leave, part of me is dreaming about being back in New York or resettling somewhere else with E. I think about practicing at Guy's and making little lunches and getting books from the library. I think about moving to San Francisco or back to Albuquerque and seeing a live local band. I think about visiting my family as if it weren't a once a year occasion. Or getting on a plane and surprising my best friend weeks before she goes into labor. I want to be one of the first to hold that baby... And then the sound of someone breaking a drinking glass in the living room brings me back here to India.

Sunday Led Second Practice

I'm still reading The Other Boleyn Girl. It never ends. It's about sisters who are rivals (because apparently sisters always are). It's about the wives of King Henry VIII and the role of women etc. It is very tedious and never ends. The gossip. The scheming. The charming. The games. This is what happens when people don't have to work either in the office or in the home. They start to work on their social stuff. Sometimes it feels like that here. All these people with all this time and lots of talking. It's like summer camp or Desperate House Wives or High School.

I'm spending more time with myself even if other people are around. I was thinking about how sometimes I feel a little hurt when I'm not invited to something or somewhere, but then realized that that is all temporary, and what I am learning to create here is something perfect. It's like Goa. Around this time of year there is a mass exodus of AYRI students to practice with Rolf in Goa. At first I was a little jealous. I wanted to go too. Everyone described it as such a paradise, how could I not? But this time around I realized that that paradise is fleeting. Maybe I go to Goa and have a fun time but then what? Will the people I meet still be my friends 20 years from now? Will the practice I have with Rolf be about me or about Rolf? I prefer to stay here. I have a teacher who I trust. I have myself. I have my family and friends and I'm here for the practice. More and more I feel like "the practice" is learning how to create a paradise within myself. This is permanent.

I'm learning how to stay focused and not get distracted by other people which is harder than it seems.

Tomorrow is Sharath's birthday. This french woman had a bunch of people sign a big card that she was giving him today after the led second class. I practiced in the same spot as last week--front and to the left. I was really shaky. I think perhaps I didn't have enough water. However, it was also really hot and humid in the room today and there was some guy taking photos (I emailed him asking for a copy). I tried a new method for dwi pada which didn't go as planned but certainly taught me much. Yoga nidrasana was fine. For back bending, I was feeling particularly "open", but I felt strong. On my second back bend, I hovered with bent arms and could see how that with some time this could be me grabbing my own ankles solo soon. I kept feeling these really happy feelings like "wow! I'm here in Mysore in led second! Wow!"

I took my time in finishing postures and woke up from resting to find that I was the only one left resting while the more advanced students were still being led by Sharath. I rolled up my mat and headed for the dressing room to change. When I came out, I stood to the side while Sharath received presents and flowers from students (the led students were still in resting but were peaking to see what was happening). I put my mat on the floor and waited for Sharath to turn toward me. When he finally did, I spread my arms gave him the "you come here" hand gesture, wrapped my arms around him and gave him a huge hug. I squeezed him and said "Happy Birthday Sharath!" All the students resting laughed and Sharath smiled.

Later at breakfast, I heard some students saying that everyone was hugging Sharath after that. I don't know, for me it just felt like what I wanted to do.

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

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!

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.

Practice, practice, practice

In the wake of yesterday's interview with Guy (for the May issue of Living Mysore Magazine, I am grasping for some firm ground. The conclusion?

No too tight, not too loose.

Obsess and don't obsess. Find the middle ground.

What keeps speaking to me is this question, "why are we doing this yoga?" The answer keeps coming as "to transform".

Example. My body is physically changing. It is adapting to the new challenges of my practice, it is getting stronger, lighter, and the shape is slowly shifting.

Example. My mind is changing. Thinking of the physical aspects of practice, there is no one day that I am performing. I am not practicing and practicing these postures so that one day I can show them off. I can't just fast so that the next day I "feel light" and then can do a certain posture. The choices I make for what I put into my body are long-term habit changes. Every day is the performance, everyday is the practice. Everything has to change.

Example. But why does it have to change? Am I obsessing over asana? Kind of, but not really. I am obsessing over cultivating mindfulness in my thoughts and actions. It is watching myself as I move through the world the entire 22 hours until the next asana session. The whole day is "doing yoga".

On this entire physical/mental shift fostered by the asana practice, it is interesting how one would think that "oh everything is perfect and now I will just work on this one thing", when actually this one thing effects everything else. I remember when I did this workshop with this Ayurvedic teacher that was all about Mind Body Centering and she was talking about how when you get an organ removed, that sickness and pain that was there is still there because the issue was never solved. How could it still linger even when the physical organ was gone? It is simple. Everything in the body is connected to everything else. When an organ is removed, the body doesn't think, "okay, the right kidney is gone, oh well." In this same way, getting a new posture changes your entire practice and then changes your entire life. Everything is different, everything is connected.

Excited about this Danny Paradise workshop coming up at Om Factory next week. It is always interesting to hear different points of view. Also hyped about Mysore, so I dug up this info to inspire!

Ashtanga Yoga in Mysore, India
General Mysore Info:



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=At_JswBti28
http://www.livingmysore.com/


Ajay



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWuquyM5VXg
http://www.sthalam8.com/index.php?sub_page=ajay

Sheshadari



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=574KxzmIH3E
http://mandala.ashtanga.org/index.php/sheshadri

BNS Iyengar



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClWOwVHvLQU
http://ashtanga.org/lineage/bns_iyengar.shtml

Sharath/Guruji/Saraswati



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3-8Te30H6k
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKQw0-IlJiY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3mzQ83Gk8A
http://www.ayri.org/

Another keyword search: which leg first in krounchasana?

That one is easy! Jump through from downdog with the right leg bent and left leg up like in triangmukha eka pada paschimottanasana. Then do a vinyasa and jump through with the left leg bent and right leg up. Pretty much its always right leg first. There are a few exceptions though. For instance, you twist to the left side first in pasasana. Why does it say to twist to the right first in David Swenson's book? *Shrug*

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...

Flying dreams

News from Mysore:

It is official. A new heir to the ashtanga throne has been born! Today after the opening mantra, Saraswati announced that Sharath is the proud father of a baby boy!

On to the blog:

We often forget our dreams. The dreams that we remember sometimes stick with us, especially those where we are flying. I've read that dreams of flying are categorized as "lucid dreams", which are dreams where the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming. We are aware that we are doing the impossible, we are soaring through the sky, or hovering over the earth, or gliding above the ocean. When we are flying, everything is possible. These dreams are often described as carrying a feeling of freedom and joy.

Lying in bed after class, I was taking an extended savasana (rest). I stared from underneath the blanket, up into space. I was daydreaming of birds. (Maybe the sound of the early morning tweeting and squawking planted some images.) I dreamt of trees towering above the ground with warm nests filled with the anxious, flapping wings of baby birds ready to figure out what they were made for. The mother bird pushes them out one at a time. There is no lesson, just a push, and the confidence that the little creature will be able to figure it out. Yes, there is technique involved, but really, the point is just to stay in the air, the point is to fly and it doesn't matter how the little creature does it, so much as he or she does.

I saw Rachel standing up from urdhva dhanurasana today. She did it for the first time yesterday. I watched as she negotiated the weight distribution between her hands and feet. I watched as she inched her way to the very edge. For a second, I thought she would give up even though she was so close. I wanted to shout across the room, "go for it! you got it!" And then, all the hesitation washed away and she stood up, just like that.

What I love about ashtanga (and what a lot of people don't like) is that it is so much about just doing it. Just stand up. Just lift up. Just jump back. Just fold. Just...fly. Over time, as you soar, you figure out that you can twirl and dive and spin and a million other things once you conquer everything that tells you "no" and you are doing it--you are flying. It is like constantly looking into your own face as a child when you figured out how to do something. Little you gazes warmly up at current you and exclaims, "I did it!" Maybe, big you can do the same thing. Sometimes in practice, we are all like happy little children shouting, "I did it!" As I write this, I can honestly say that I'm smiling because it is so simple and because this little drop of happiness is such a gift.

I've found myself in a few conversations recently about how people wish they were birds, and in particular, eagles.

Sometimes in flying dreams, we feel like we are beginning to lose altitude or that we will crash into something. This happens to me when I realize not that I'm flying, but that actually, I can't usually do this in real life. For me, its the "possibility" or lack there of that I cling to and allow to weigh me down all the way to the ground.

I want to remember a dream in the back of my mind where I begin to lose altitude but then, I do the impossible and I "pick it up!" "Pick it up" just happens to sound familiar because that is what Saraswati and Sharath will tell you and those around you who begin to lose altitude in flying poses such as headstand or uthplutih. Today I had the feeling that Saraswati was pushing all of us out of the nest and now it is up to us to fly.

Daniel Johnston

Worried Shoes - Yip / Jump Music (1983)

I took my lucky break and I broke it in two

Put on my worried shoes

My worried shoes

And my shoes took me so many miles and they never wore out
My worried shoes
I made a mistake and I never forgot
I tied knots in the laces of
My worried shoes
And with every step that I'd take I'd remember my mistake

As I marched further and further away
In my worried shoes

My worried shoes

And my shoes took me down a crooked path

Away from all welcome mats

My worried shoes

And then one day I looked around and I found the sun shining down

And I took off my worried shoes

And the feet broke free

I didn't need to wear

Then I knew the difference between worrying and caring

'Cause I've got a lot of walking to do

And I don't want to wear

My worried shoes

Links to dream dictionaries (when is the last time you tried to analyse a dream?):

http://www.mysticalblaze.com/DreamsFlying.htm

http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/

http://www.dreamdoctor.com/dictionary/

On quitting your life--cold turkey

I woke up this morning at 4am. AYRI is closed today so I spent a while staring at the ceiling. All beds here are covered with mosquito netting. Most yoga students stay in local guest houses, so they come equipped (usually) with netting and all that. If not, it is way cheaper here than anywhere else. For instance, batteries are 17rs for 2 double a's. That comes to about $o.42.

I read for a bit. I tossed and turned some more. Around 6am I decided to just get out of the bed. I got dressed, did a couple of sun salutes, brushed my teeth (with bottled water), the whole time looking at the "shower" from the corner of my eye, trying to convince myself that I could go the day without one. There are a few different shower options you'll find in the guest houses. The first is fondly known as the "bucket shower". You take the bucket, stick a hot iron in it, then dip a pitcher in and pour the water over yourself as you stand in the middle of the bathroom. The floor is slanted slightly so it all goes toward the drain, passing by the toilet on its way. Desire overtook any qualms I had about the shower and toilet sharing the same floor space as I embarked on my first bucket shower. It wasn't all that bad. In fact it was kind of nice dumping water over myself. It reminded me of being a baby except I was standing in my bathroom instead of sitting a kitchen sink. I don't know if I'll be able to wash my hair.

After your "shower", there is a squeegee that you use to push the water towards the drain. Now you want to do a good job otherwise you'll get wet feet each time you go to use the toilet for the rest of the day.

I went over to AYRI like Sharath said and he was waiting there for me. I filled out the application (he didn't ask me if I already sent one) and he told me to come to the led class tomorrow at 6:15am and then to practice on normal days at 7:15am. I got a card that I'm supposed to put at the front of my mat that says my name, time I practice, etc. I couldn't really get a good picture of it. Here it is anyway. He emphasized that I should not come earlier. Fine by me. (The earliest class starts at 4am I think.) A friend told me that actually its a bit of a problem that people don't come on time. Its not that they sleep in, in fact, people are coming earlier than they are supposed to. Apparently the more advanced practitioners are assigned the earlier times and beginners are assigned later times. So people get a little miffed when they're given later times (anything past 7am). I got 7:15am. Sharath asked me after he gave me a time if I was a beginner. I'm not sure if this means that I won't be working with Sharath. I guess I'll find out.

For the rest of the morning I sat on the terrace reading and drawing with a little break to visit an organic market where I bought a jar of hummus. I haven't tasted it yet. I had lunch at Anu's by myself. Anu's is a family restaurant about 1 minute's walk from Joseph's B&B (minus a B). You go upstairs to the terrace and they put out a bunch of different dishes and you help yourself. Today there was beet salad :P, carrot salad, cucumber/tomato salad :P, eggplant and tomato :D, spicy string beans chopped up really small, something that I think involved seitan, lentils, rice, and little tortilla things called "chapati", I think. This costs 100rs or $2.5, which is kind of expensive. A lot of people from the Shala (AYRI) to eat and so its a good place to meet people. Although today I ate alone. Downstairs is an Internet cafe (where I am now), and a phone to make international calls. PS-the computers have skype.

You've left your job, your diet, your significant other, your family, your time zone, your shower, your friends, your everything. What do you do with your day? Since I haven't practiced at the Shala yet, which is why I came here, I don't really feel grounded. In New York, I practice 6 days a week. I haven't practiced since Thursday. My body feels blah, my mind feels blah, everything blah. Everyone around me seems to not feel the same. The Indians all are living with purpose. They're doing what they do. The students already here also are doing what they now do. But I'm not doing anything that I used to do, nor what I came to do, so then what do you do?

This is quitting your life--cold turkey day 2.