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What does it all mean?

As I watch videos on youtube (my cyber shala or morning inspiration, if you will), I remember last night's dream. I was with a friend. A girl, I think. We were playing maybe a card game or something trivial in a room with a bunch of tables. I think we were playing and slowly Pattabhi Jois (Guruji) started to notice us and play a bit. Last few times I saw him, he was very old, very out there, and not likely to randomly start fraternizing with me. I guess in the dream, our playing interested him and sort of brought him out of the stroke-funk. He started getting younger- like the Guruji of myth. I really wanted him to be my teacher and tell me that if I cried, he would cry (like Nicky Doane's story). There was a feeling of connection, and then I woke up.

Maybe a week ago I dreamt I was sitting at a communal picnic table with a bunch of friends including one who was killed (in real life) much too young. I was confused because she was supposed to be dead, but here she was -- alive.

Not sure if they are connected outside of the table and resurrection thing.

Except that they were both smiling a lot and trying to talk with me.

And the warm fuzzy feeling of peace and joy surrounding them.

I don't need you

It is a strange thing. If you stop needing things, then what do you do? Things become very simple. You are just you, doing things. But what do you do?

I don't have to go to practice. I can practice right here whenever I want. I don't have to prove it to anyone. So I know if and when I practice and that is it. Strange. Liberating.

An adjustment becomes an assist. But really.

I don't have to go to school. I can read a book right here whenever I want. I don't have to prove it to anyone. So I know if and when I read and that is it. Strange. Liberating.

Learning is learning. But only. ?

Do we only do things because of output. No matter how much we resist acting towards "a means to an end" are we going to do it anyway? Do we almost need it?

And even as bold and brave as this could sound right now. As self-contained and confident, after some time, we eventually start to need someone to hold us accountable.

(just musing.)

There is no teacher; you are the guru

"what we are trying in all these discussions and talks here is to see if we cannot radically bring about a transformation of the mind. not accept things as they are, but to understand it, to go into it, to examine it, give your heart and your mind with everything that you have to find out a way of living differently. but, that depends on you and not somebody else, because in this there is no teacher, no pupil. there's no leader. there's no guru. there's no master, no savior. you yourself are the teacher and the pupil. you are the master. you are the guru. you are the leader. you are everything... and to understand is to transform what is..." Jiddu Krishnamurti

NY: Stinky Armpit or Steamy Tropical? (Under pressure)

The good, bad, and ugly post.

Right now, New York is a bit like both. It is a little too hot to feel comfortable walking more than a block but instead of having the permission to just bask in the steamy goodness, one feels compelled to pummel through. I find myself constantly echoing "so good" "yay summer" and "shorts!" It is the only way to find balance between the two worlds.

But really, right now I am a bag of excuses that should probably be stuffed into a sack with "sorrys". If I can't go to the early practice shift, I don't want to go at all because it is just so darn hot and sweaty. I admit it. I like the AC. At my house it gets the room to a bearable 80 (on a good day) with a lot less humidity. I've got a mild case of asthma, so I feel like I really feel that mush humidity/heat. I get annoyed with all the people heaving themselves around me. All that sweat (mine and theirs) gets thrown all over the place and when it is time for Mukta Hasta Sirsasana C I get agitated because my hands just slip all over like I'm giving the floor a massage. I just want to do my practice! I get mad a Guy for trying to get me to reach my full potential. I'm just happy I'm on my mat! I worry about my sternoclavicular joint, so I'm trying to be hyper-precise in my vinyasas. I feel like I don't have enough time in the day. I'm mad that I have to work...

What it comes down to is I am a little ball of cranky right now because I am a little stressed out about an upcoming GRE exam. I know it isn't that big of a deal, but I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself when it comes to academic achievement.


photo: http://thelittlechimpsociety.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/sweaty.jpg

ugh facebook

so easy to get sucked in.  leads to googling ex-boyfriends.  daydreaming about getting the old crew back together.  ick.

Dear God,

It's me.  Are you there?

I'd pray when I was younger when there were things that felt completely out of my control.

A dog please.

Friends please.

Not to get caught please.

And yet, perhaps praying to God is a way of controlling the situation.  If I ask God, then clearly I have delegated a task to someone/thing who can get things done.  I've tossed a statement into a jar and sent it out to sea.  I have written a letter to Santa for presents and they better be the right ones otherwise I'll be stuck with a bunch of crap I don't want...

Asking God for stuff is making a choice that something is what I want.  At the time (back in the day) I'm sure I was talking to God the dude in the sky with the beard and I was this super-powerful earth goddess that totally connected with him.  I could talk to animals too.  Obviously.

I don't really pray like that anymore.  I think about God, but it is less like God my Big Brother and more like God the world is an amazing place.  I think about people and now and happiness and sadness and suffering and blessings.  I think about all this stuff crashing into each other in the middle of an intersection and that explosion in the center is God.  I think.

But today was different.  I had these intense internal moments during practice where I was there but then also sort of consciously decided to day dream that actually I was floating up to the sky and in Mukta Hasta Sirsasana C on a surf board zipping through the clouds.  And then I was thinking about blue bursts of light shooting up my guts and spine the color of blue 1980's dance/aerobics video lighting.  And then I was up in space flying around.  I just took my mind to this crazy place and giggled inside that no one in the room could have imagined that I was thinking about this stuff.

And it was also God.  It started with "God, I think that maybe today is the day that this crazy stuff is just going to snap my body in two".  And it turned into just "God".  God. God. God.  It gave me something to think about so I felt like I was busy or something.

But then after class as I dodged last night's puke on the sidewalk and hopped over puddles of dog pee, I thought about praying (or whatever).  "Um, so, hey God (or whatever).  Here's where I am at.  Give me a sign or something.  Okay, thanks."

I think that is it.

Kamikaze Practice -- from the crazy mixed up files of second series

stuff that should probably be marked as really private but whatever

... and some days I get this feeling of just... just dead.  Everything is dead and pointless and meaningless and a whole lot of complete bullshit and I really really just want to keep connecting with truth, reality, god, whatever.  

Drishti, flying, drugs, cliff jumping, tattoos, sex, heights, extreme sports, dancing, kamikaze practice.

Those headstands at the end of second are like that.  Some people are more suicidal than others.  I get a sick thrill out of just falling and then last second --bam!  Hands on the floor.  Bam!  Hands on the floor!  Bam!  That was loud!  Bam!  Fuck everyone in the room!  Bam! Alive! Bam!  Bam!  Strength, concentration?  Maybe just a whole lot of just me.  Just getting real small and sitting inside this body and laughing at all the crazy shit it does.  Getting a wild joy out of riding it into the sunset.  Trying to wear myself out so that everything else get in perspective or a little bit quieter and a little less immediate and important.  A bit like Fight Club...

"After a night in fight club, everything in the real world gets the volume turned down.  Nothing can piss you off.  Your word is law, and if other people break that law or question you, even that doesn't piss you off."

Miss you

I miss blogging. I do.

There are many truths to why I am at the bottom of the mountain with all my gear just paralyzed and unable to take that first step...until now? No guarantees. The truth is that I don't want to feel that I am writing for anyone. I don't want to feel like I am doing anything just to report back or bring to show and tell. I am at a place where I really want to share stuff but also want to keep it to myself. I want people to read but I also want to pretend that no one reads it at all. I want to be anonymous, but also I don't.

I want to say where I am in practice, how it is going, and that my scalp sheds like a snake skin. I want people to reply that that happened to them too from the headstands. But I also don't want to say that I am doing them. I want to say that I am teaching a little again, but I don't want word to get around and get into "trouble" with whomever.

It is really weird. I have been writing a bit on a completely private blog. I don't check the grammar, I just kind of write whatever. It is so much different when you know that it is possible for people to read the bullshit that you write. I feel like I really have to say something.

Here it is: I don't know what to say.

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.