Big then small then big again

(originally posted at sanghayogashala.wordpress.com)

Even though all things are shades of grey, sometimes when speaking, we are forced to paint them black or white. It could be that we lack the time, words, pause, whatever the reason, a label has been placed and something is now something whether it was the way we saw it originally or not. Everytime we open our mouths or pick up the pen to speak, a bit of meaning is lost. Sometimes, however, there can also be an opportunity to look at the output as a more defined (even if crude) statement of what the root of something is.

Ashtanga is like this. It could be its cultural foundation, the absence of common language, or maybe it is just how it is supposed to be taught — simple and to the point. And in being economic with the statement, all the little parts and meanings come together to complete a big action. Of course sometimes although the statement is understood, the focus becomes the gathering of the little parts. “Jump!” leads to “how do I externally rotate this and what breath should I do that and where should I look?” instead of just jumping. Not showing up for practice breaks into I had to do this and then this happened so then I did this and then this instead of just realizing the time was not made to make something happen. It is really easy to just jump and it is equally as easy to get caught up in the million little pieces. Which is better? Which teaches and transforms us more? I think it is all shades of grey — a definite statement of black or white. It is nothing and it is everything. Sometimes things are very specific, sometimes they are broad. Sometimes it all makes sense, sometimes it does not at all.

Getting out of the language and into the practice can be an unsettling place. Reasons, excuses, and conditions are no longer valid. “Why” becomes “why not”. My practice is my practice and just like anyone else’s I settle into patterns and reasons and excuses and conditions. Meeting myself everyday, my same teacher, my same life, it is easy to also be the same. Slowly, I become something that I am allowed to be even if it is not my most maximum expression of possibility. And then something changes. A new teacher, a different breakfast, a new walk to work, and in an instant, I am confronted with the difference between where I am and where I think I am and have the possibility to be.

There was this transition between postures that was particularly challenging to me. Eventually I did it and then slowly felt that since I did it I didn’t have to do it everyday but could pull it out whenever I wanted to. Sometimes this is true, but it turns out that this was not like riding a bike or “hula-ing” a hula hoop. I was working with a new teacher and they looked at me quizzically when I didn’t take the transition. I then asked myself “why not” and spilled into a million little pieces and then decided that yes, “why not?” and tried. And tried. And am still trying to not think and just do because in this case, the grey is turning into white and I want it to be black because it can be. Because it starts as the grey and then things become black or white before we know it.

I think that this is what it is all about. Seeing, changing, transforming, becoming, and being. A constant big then small then big again. An endless cycle of being who you are, losing that, and then coming back again.

–Elise

(Video via youtube by govindakai of led intermediate series in Mysore, India at KPJAYI. Students are working on Karandavasana…)

Guruji

I'm living in a tiny New York apartment in true bohemian style with books and pictures from floor to ceiling and an occasional nic-nack nestled here and there. Over time it becomes part of the landscape and I stop noticing all the little bits that make up the whole. But yesterday as I was leaving the house, I paused for a moment and stared at a picture of Guruji. It was like opening my eyes under water, watching the bubbles go up and a pebble slowly float down. Time kind of stopped and it was me and this image and just thinking about this monumental person.

And then this morning, we've all heard: Guruji has passed away. I'm not sure what there is to say except that this practice has changed my life. I am who I am because of the teachings of this amazing person. The short moments I was lucky enough to spend with him were beautiful and full of joy. Thank you, Guruji.

Guruji

I'm living in a tiny New York apartment in true bohemian style with books and pictures from floor to ceiling and an occasional nic-nack nestled here and there. Over time it becomes part of the landscape and I stop noticing all the little bits that make up the whole. But yesterday as I was leaving the house, I paused for a moment and stared at a picture of Guruji. It was like opening my eyes under water, watching the bubbles go up and a pebble slowly float down. Time kind of stopped and it was me and this image and just thinking about this monumental person.

And then this morning, we've all heard: Guruji has passed away. I'm not sure what there is to say except that this practice has changed my life. I am who I am because of the teachings of this amazing person. The short moments I was lucky enough to spend with him were beautiful and full of joy. Thank you, Guruji.

leaving

When it is really early in the morning, I can hear a train chugging in the distance. It is just like when my eyes get quiet and begin to see the little details instead of the distractions...there are still trains chugging across the massive carpets that cover the floors of the shala. Tomorrow is my last day in Mysore and it is sometimes the things that I gripe about the most that I will miss like crazy. Like waking up painfully early and the constant confrontation of India that brings me to my edge. Or living so closely with people that they drive you so crazy that you realize it will be hard to live without them because you like being a little crazy.

I love this life.

The rain is back--but it is just more romantic that way

So I had this vision of celebrating a little gift to myself for my b-day and just for fun by spending a day shopping and living it up in Mumbai before heading back to New York. Now I am not so sure.

The story in the New York Times

My feelings on the whole subject are mixed up and complicated. I think that maybe it is best to just get a direct flight back and not even think about it, which is what I'll probably do... But I am sad and scared and disappointed and disillusioned and worried and frustrated and confused and more.

But I am still happy to be going back. And even in the chaos, there is a little flower growing through the pavement. I just watched a clip from the Today Show on the annual tradition of USA Black Friday madness and thought of me last year shaking in a coat with a coupon in my hand outside a Circuit City with my BF. I miss him.

Yesterday was my last primary class. It was pretty sweet. I feel like I have had so many breakthroughs. I don't even have the words to describe what the whole experience was like but it was something and it was significant and it all felt just how it was meant to be.

And then I spent most of the rest of the day sick in bed possibly with back bending fever or maybe the beginnings of my friend's cold. So I watched My So-Called Life episodes on Youtube and read Indian Cosmopolitan and dodged the rain to get masala dosas at the stand up place (which, by the way, aren't as good as the ones at 6 Main. Plus, Six Main delivers!)

Tomorrow is my last led second class. I am a little sad about that because it is just so much fun, but know that I'll be in there again someday. Today I am off to sample Santosha's latest: wheat-free pancakes. (I've gone back to wheat-free and it feels fantastic.) And to the center to pick up some Indian metal ware for the kitchen...

The battle scars never end

I have a huge bruise on the back of my arm from karandavasana. I was trying and trying and trying and then at a certain point I realized that I could do it one more time but what was the point of getting it today, right now? I had to let it go. There is a point where the ego-less effort turns into ego-feeding effort. You should try your best but without attachment to a goal. Or something like that.

Everyday feels like a gift. I have, what? 6 days left? So, I have deep cleaned my kitchen and parts of the rest of the house. I made granola and yummy meals and feel like giving and taking all the good stuff on this earth. Yes, I am having a serious new age hippie moment.

Today I have to do some serious work on a crazy epic upcoming project...But when I'm not doing that, I'm running around finding little amazing things to bring home.

Yoga boot camp

Baron Baptiste look out.

This is no retreat center. I am convinced that Sharath has access to the power grid and just when you start to get too comfortable, he turns out the power. This time for more than 24 hours. It builds character I am convinced. Walking around with a candle.

I am flying back in 9 days.

Wow.

Black out

There are things I want to remember. Like my friend who is convinced she is going to go back and have a baby. I want to remember what it is like to sit with her now. I want to remember this feeling of anticipation for my friend who will have a baby in nine days. The unknown. I want to remember the pure frustration this morning when I stared at our dirty sink covered with hairs and trails of ants. The sky full of stars when I remembered to look up on the way to the shala this morning. The silhouette of a horse in the field at 4:30am. Balancing on my forearms with my legs above and the lights go out and it is pitch black. I am there for one breath and thirty minutes. It is a place without time and I feel like the last person in the universe. The lights go back on and I cross my legs in karandavasana and start to turn the free fall into a feather landing on water. Start to.

A girl in pincha mayurasana at the old shala from Govinda Kai's photostream.

Jump back

I am staring into nothingness, counting my breaths. In the dark of the changing room, I realize how much I will long to be here when I am not. I feel saturated with gratefulness for the opportunity to be lying on my mat listening to other girls around me sobbing on their backs in the dark. I think about how I am understanding this practice more and more. How it works without you really even knowing it: you just have to show up. You just have to try. I am smiling on the inside and even as my competitive edge rises up, I turn it around, wishing the girl next to me will get that post-uthplutih padmasana jump back that she is working on. I think about sending positive energy and dedication to people and I finish reclined on my mat covered with my rug and mosquitoes absolutely blissed out by my ridiculous new age moment.

It is true. I have booked my ticket back to-- you'll never guess--New York. I am fantasizing about heels, winter coats, sweaters, scarves, movies, pizza, and Central Park. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.

But actually, I am thrilled to be going back to New York. I feel totally refreshed and centered and on the path and whatever else you want to call it. I feel sorted. No job yet, but I am optimistic. What am I looking for?

1. Well-paid job with benefits, room for growth, progressive work culture
2. Any combination of the above
3. Whatever I can get my hands on as long as there is a work/life balance

I don't have a specific position in mind, I am open to trying something new and kind of hope it turns out that way.

In the meantime, I have made my Mysore countdown calendar (I have less than a month left) and it is already getting packed. I soaking up every bit of work, refection, and relaxation time that I can get. I am laughing at downloaded ANTM episodes from Youtube. I am loving the South Indian thali that I never liked before. I am learning to let go to the dumb stuff and hang on to the truth. I am working slowly and steadily on karandavasana which is really a metaphor for me.

Look at what I found

Dosa oh dosa

In the back of a rickshaw on the way to Laxmipurum, I am reflecting on the last few months in India. I have been busy but with what? What have I been doing? At the moment, my laptop is in my bag with open documents to be edited, revised, torn to pieces, and put together again. It feels like what's happened to me since August. Or maybe before that.

Everyday has been "okay good morning" who are you? what do you want? how do you think? why do you behave the way you do? what are your skills? what are your weaknesses? what are you doing? Every day. I feel edited, revised, torn to pieces, and put together again. I couldn't have planned it better if I tried.

I left New York thinking I knew what I wanted: long-term independent travel. But really I think what I wanted was the space to change. Here I have had the opportunity to really do the work it takes to begin to scratch the surface of what it means to understand myself, the world, and how I fit into it. The journey has brought both pleasure and pain, but the lessons I have learned along the way will stay with me for the rest of my life. Or at least that it is how it feels now.

I am putting all of my energy and focus into this job hunt. I am actually excited about it. I have unconsciously let the Livingmysore fade to the background, and sadly the blogging has faded slightly as well. What can I say? It is what it is. So what Will I do? What will my profession be? Don't know yet. I do know that I don't plan on teaching full-time. I do know that I want to find a position, whatever it is, that values me as me at a company that I feel happy and proud to be a part of. Vague, I know, but ripe with potential.

Yesterday was the moon day (so no practice) and today was led primary series. It was so soft and soothing (or maybe it was just my state of mind) after a week of second to karandavasana. Every time I get a new pose, my body and practice feels it. Poses feel different, I get sore, tired, and achy. Today's practice was just what I needed.

And when I am not crashing onto my butt from karandavasana, winning writing cover letters, or avoiding making my ticket change for December, I am becoming a first-rate connoisseur of the Mysore South Indian set dosa. It is an art really.

Where have you gone?

craigslist mediabistro careerbuilder monster smuz idealist krop nyfa simplyhired job monkey nytimes classified vault bookjobs indeed

Resume cover letter functional resume writing test quick note informat cover letter online application salary.com compensation history company research

I have been looking for a job non-stop.

I got karandavasana in Sunday's led class. I am the one making the "thump" in the back of the room. It is the sound of my rump hitting the floor again and again and again.

I am watching and learning about people and relationships and growing everyday.

I am inspired by Sharath and Saraswati in conference, class, and thought.

I am so tired at 3:50 in the morning.

Obama won. Awesome.

The care and keeping of second series friends and loved ones

Maybe no one told you, because I know that no one told me.

There is something about second series that really shakes a person up. I see the people just starting the series and they are energetic and smiling. I see the the people practicing full second and they are social butterflies. I see the people working the middle and they are all quiet loners. They are often forlorn and quick to withdraw to their caves. They are content to be alone shuffling about their houses. Their eating habits are strange. Their train of thought and social skills are at times puzzling.

So now that is me. Just realized it. My body sometimes feels completely shattered. All I want is comfort food, soothing voices, my mom, my boyfriend. Cozy sweaters and lying in the sun. I want comfort, sweetness, easy, soft. I want to be home for the holidays. I want to watch Christmas movies and romantic comedies. What I am getting is rigid, real, spicy, or at least that is how it seems. Aggressive and intense. Too much.

But now that I know, it is funny. Just watching myself be ridiculous. I am going to laugh when I see my friends doing the same thing. Just laugh and smile.

Add that to my most recent ENTJ read:


Under Stress The ENTJ:

• May become extremely critical of themselves and others
• Will become angry, controlling and blindly issues orders without respect to consequences
• Will begin to strongly doubt themselves
• Under extreme stress they may withdraw, feel hurt, trapped and become over emotional
• May withdraw and strongly criticize others

Sounds like fun, right? Ha ha. Really, reading this stuff I feel a huge cloud moving from above me to drop rain over someone else's head. The world is sunny again. The world is my oyster. This is me riding off into the horizon. Off into the great unknown.

Oh okay

now I get it.
ENTJ

The itch

I am getting dumb annoyed with the little things. A sign that there are not enough distractions around so I start sending my energy to whatever comes next: people. The people I see everyday. Do I really care how long the bottles have been sitting on the counter in the grand scheme of things? Of course not. Do I get really bothered that the only thing I ever talk to my roommate about is garbage (not rubbish--I mean useless information)? Yes. And even more than that, I don't like the feeling of getting frustrated with myself for feeling embarrassed for going through the process of my day. I get upset about things just like anyone else. It passes I know it passes. I learn from it. I do things better. But there is nothing wrong for it to happen and I don't want to feel dumb for having it. So okay I decide to not feel dumb but the fact is that I am being objective about my experience and being objective must allow the concession that this stuff comes up and I can't pretend that it doesn't.

The point isn't to stop thinking, it is to realize that the thinking is not you.

So there we have it. I am experiencing a dream, a fantasy, a lucid dream where sometimes I control things and sometimes I don't because I forget that it is a dream and that there are choices.

Beyond all that, getting annoyed is a sign that I am working hard at practice. Second series. Nadi Shodhana. Nerve cleansing. I had trouble sitting today I just couldn't get comfortable. My emotions are back and forth. I get irritable and tired and energetic and all over the place. I write this and I think how everyone must think I am nuts but I'm not. At least that is what Simon tells me. (Simon is the tree outside that talks to me.)

I think that it is also a sign that there has been a shift. I feel like I am ready to be released from spiritual rehab. I am now showing the new patients the ropes. I am leading the art class. I am on time for my meds, etc. I might get released for good behavior. Can't just stick around here for the food now can I? Got to get out and start experimenting with all this stuff I have made in the laboratory. Plus, I want to show the world how to make popsicle stick picture frames.

Alright I'll be serious. Seriously, this trip has been such an amazing learning experience for me. I didn't come for any answers, but the answers found me.

I was just kidding about Simon the talking tree.

On not freaking out

Yesterday's newspaper was filled with stories illustrating the many interesting facets of the Diwali experience. I suppose there are some consequences when you play with fire. Bombs that is, or fireworks, rather. Diwali is this mix of New Mexico luminarias, Fourth of July fireworks, and good old-fashioned Halloween evil spirit shunning. There are candles lining the houses and super-dangerous home-lit fireworks all in a big effort to scare away bad spirits. I'm not sure what the piles of doo-doo adorned with flowers were contributing, but contribute they did.






















We had already heard the dawning of WWIII, which turned out to be the lighting of bombs all over Gokulum. But the real party was going down a couple nights later. My roommate came home with an armful of really sketchy bombs and we all headed outside to see things blowing up. All up and down the streets were entire families standing around and applauding the explosion that resulted from the little boy presently running from a lit fuse. We were all shocked by how many misfired and how super dangerous these easily acquired devices were. My friend laughed over how we'd see these tiny kids running away from fuses while Grandma clapped in the background. This was when my roommate moved to go inside to get more explosives. We all looked at the space between him and the front door, one foot on the stoop and knew--we were locked out.

None of us had our keys. All the windows have bars to keep everyone out including us. (Maybe they thought up this extreme measure during Diwali?) So we had a chai and waited for a Diwali miracle. I took the last of our money--the 100rs in my pocket--and put it in Amy's hand, "take this please and buy the most delicious sweets you can find". She hopped gallantly onto the back of Rick's bike and headed off into the night for a locksmith and chocolates...or cookies...or whatever delicious sweet she could find. And we waited.

We got in eventually.






















This morning as I head into Tina's to pay for my breakfast (fruit salad, egg dosa with chutney and spinach, coffee) I hear dismayed laughing. The sound is coming from the bathroom where my friend is circling the Indian toilet. What are you doing? I ask. I dropped my keys! She says. I am in stitches with laughter. We both are. In this bathroom everything slopes in toward the hole in the back of that blue hole in the floor like an art student study of perspective. Everything is angled in toward that point on the horizon in the middle of the page.

She got them out eventually.



















The paper had stories on how the rise of eye injuries treated at the hospitals had increased. A puppy died from shock from the sound. Etc.

But I think most people had a pretty good time.

Ganesh saves the day

http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/queens/2008/10/21/2008-10-21_elephantshaped_ganesh_growth_cured_my_il.html

Cleanliness is next to Godliness...saucha?

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe second series makes you crazy. Maybe I'm just crazy.

Or at least that's how I feel as I slam trash into the garbage, toss t-shirts into bedrooms, dodge hairs in the sink, or check my glass before I fill it.

Sometimes I freak out.

-and I want to go home.

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.

Bangalore and back

Post Friday led primary class, the three of us rode the high all the way to Bangalore. It was an impulse trip for sure. We had big dreams of kinda posh hotels, tasty "fusion" meals, shopping and dropping, but not after tearing up a dance floor with a mixed drink in hand.

Some of that happened.

We took the train. Second class. It started alright and we were in good spirits until we figured out that this was not the express and how 3 plus hours really makes your tailbone feel. But we would not be deterred. We landed in Bangalore frazzled and fabulous. "Take us shopping". Take us to a hotel. Take us for food and coffee and toilet...but not in that particular order.

I had never really been in Bangalore before. It is known as a big ugly techie city. And so it was. Loads of shopping. Overpriced kind of nice hotels. We opted for cheap bed and nice clothes/meal. But not before we were completely rained out with one umbrella and no change of clothes.

After checking into the hotel, we "freshened up" for five minutes and headed out for eats. A drunken rickshaw ride later we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere with no restaurants, pedestrians, or hope--only traffic and rain and huge puddles for us to step in. Somehow we decided to go into an office building and to our surprise discovered that it also housed a Japanese restaurant which turned out to be one of the best meals I have ever had in my life. It was positively orgasmic. The night ended with fashion TV in bed and a glass of wine each.

The next day was just as wild and the never ending ride back was something one will always look back on with a smile yet never want to relive.

Back home, I sanitized everything and watched Lions for Lambs. Surprisingly good.

This morning I woke up with achy train/rain body but headed to class anyway of course...

And I got pincha mayurasana!

All the little things...

Maybe I'm ready to head back to New York soon (ish), but no promises.

Sharath makes a point sometimes about how living your yoga doesn't mean living full time in Mysore doing some asana and then smoking weed (go figure). Rather, living your yoga is being able to strive for and maintain a sense of equanimity while existing in the "real world". Ashtanga yoga isn't "cave" yoga. It is the yoga of people who are a part of the world.


Meera likens it to the law of diminishing returns. That first bite of cherry pie is awesome. After that it gets less cool. By the end, you're just shoving it down.


So although I am totally grateful and happy with being here, I feel ready to start thinking about reentering the "real world". This comes as a bit of shock to myself considering last year I felt just the opposite. But I never did really have a plan besides not having a plan. And without thinking about it, the ouija board inside my head is pointing me towards New York. Who am I to argue?

Maybe I am just growing up a bit and changing and wanting different things. That could be a part of it too.

But then the other part of me wants to stay here until I have no money. To stay here until Sharath takes time off. But then I think to myself "what for"? So that I can get lots of poses? So i can suck all the teaching out of Sharath? Three months or even four is a long time. I have and am learning a lot about practice, myself, people, life, and all that. I'm sure I'd learn more if I stay longer too. I don't know I'll just have to see what happens. I'm not even sure if I can get a flight out of here before the holidays.

Either way, I'll be happy to take it as it comes.

Practice has been interesting as usual. My whole body feels at times like a pulpy ball of raw meat. I can't believe I was going through this back in New York and able to go through an entire day of work. I can barely motivate myself to walk to my scooter. Maybe my body just knows that this is a time to rest and rejuvenate.

It has been raining a lot the last few days. People say the monsoon has come late. Fun. Smelly clothes. Aching muscles and joints. Mud. Locked in the house with nothing to eat but jaggery.

I have this fantasy about who I am and what life should be and how I fit in it. I know others have fantasies about who they think I am and who they are and all that too. I think that part of growing and learning and this process is learning that maybe you are a star or a square and that you fit in the cut out that you fit in and that is amazing.

Here is a flick of my painting. Maybe I can figure out how to rotate it next time :)