A time for change

I'm going to spend some time on the private route. Might still write here. Not sure yet. This is a trial run.

www.ashtangainspired.blogspot.com


If you would like to be considered as a reader for my private blog, email me at mysoremusings at yahoo dot com. Yes, I plan on being selective. Yes, you should write me an essay double spaced justified and 12 point font on why I should consider you as a reader. Finally, my chance to put you, the sometimes anonymous reader on the spotlight - ha ha! Oh the power! :)

Do you remember?

"For the Brain, Remembering Is Like Reliving"
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/05/science/05brain.html?_r=1&oref=slogin


"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief."
-Aeschylus

"Memory is funny. Once you hit a vein the problem is not how to remember but how to control the flow."
-Tobias Wolff

"An angel has no memory."
-Terry Southern "Happiness? That's nothing more than good health and a poor memory."
-Albert Schweitzer

Yoga Sutras of Patanjali:

1.5
Vrittayah pancatayah klishta aklishta: Thought-forms are categorized into five varieties, of which some are painful and others are non-painful (neutral).

1.6
Pramana viparyaya vikalpa nidra smritayah: These (the categories) are: Correct knowing; Incorrect knowing; Imagination; Sleep; Memory.

1.11
Anubhuta-vishayasampramoshah smritih: Memory is the recollecting or retaining of previously experienced impressions.

Don't bug me

It is getting harder and harder to write at the moment. Partly I don't know what to say and partly I feel to self-aware to say it. Looking back at last year's entries during month two, I see a similar pattern. Things start to get very internal where language starts to disappear. Or maybe now I feel differently about the whole thing. I don't really want to share things with everyone, just a few people...

So then, what does one write about when you want to share something personal but can't spare the details? Bugs. I can write about bugs.

We have an ant problem in our house. (Is it really a "problem"?) We followed the ants from the grains shelf to a few different possible entry points. My roommate poured muesli over his pancakes only to be disgusted by the multitude of ants crawling in out and around the oat clusters.

Last night on my way out of the bathroom I spied a second cockroach. I couldn't bring myself to kill it. I looked at it, it looked at me. I wonder where the little guy was headed...

I'm covered in mosquito bites from head to toe. Not even the bottom of my middle toe was spared. I now have maybe the shortest practice in the shala--or so it seemed--as I found myself in the women's dressing room all alone with the breeze and the mosquitoes. There I was in shoulderstand variations waving my arms like a mad person at the mosquitoes that buzzed around my head. I read in National Geographic that 1.) mosquitoes know the target they are heading for from an impressive distance 2.) hot, sweaty, lactic acid infused post-vigorous exercise bodies are their favorite victims.

I tell myself that I am going to withdraw my senses, that everything is God, that if I don't acknowledge them they don't exist. But then I hear the buzzing become louder and louder and I can't hold it in any longer so I swat and swat and swat.

PS-Again, yesterday in conference, Sharath emphasized that part of the practice is reading yogic texts. Specifically, he said it was a good idea to start with the Bhagavad Gita.

More lessons from the monsoon--when it rains, it pours

Oh my god what is that?
I'm leaning over my friend's toe with a "sterilized" needle digging in an open wound.
I think that's glass!
I get the little needle under the glass (or possibly clear plastic) and behind the flap of skin, straight into the pink gooey open wound toe flesh and out it pops.
There is a reason why you don't see anyone driving when it rains. She was riding home full speed ahead to get less wet I suppose. She knew there was a speed bump before the chip man and after the sweet stall. But this time she forgot. She hit the breaks and kept her hand on the accelerator and this time the mix of the wet earth with loose dirt sent the bike skidding and her flying. People came out from under their monsoon shelters.
Madam Madam are you okay?
She got up quickly (anyone read the bit on car accidents in Shantaram?) brushed off and got back on the bike.
Yes I'm okay I'm fine.
She looked down as she revved up and saw the blood running down her arms. But this one is a strong, independent woman, who didn't cry until hours later when applying the burning antiseptic powder to the open wounds. White powder all over the room and she cried.

what to do when you aren't being a pretzel--paint!

This whole week has been a blur. Between visitors and -- and I'm not sure what, I don't really remember what I did yesterday. I forget how intense practice is here. I think that oh it is just a couple of hours, but when I am ready to start winding down by 3pm, I see that even if I don't notice it, I'm working very hard.

Besides morning asana practice, cooking meals, running errands, etc., I am also taking painting classes. Here is my article on my experience for the September issue of Living Mysore Magazine. It hasn't been published yet...

Besides the freshly baked breads and massive coffees, breakfast at Santosha means dining in a room surrounded by beautiful traditional Mysore paintings where Hindu deities dance and recline in colorful backdrops sprinkled with 22-karat gold leaf detailing. I see a poster on the wall indicating that, yes, I too can learn to paint in this unique style. Count me in!

Classes begin two days later on Monday. I'm given all the supplies I'll need to begin (a pencil, pencil sharpener, eraser, and drawing pad), chai, and apple muffins. Anand, our teacher, draws a one petal lotus and instructs me to fill the page with the same. After the ninth or tenth try, he laughs a bit and gives me something else to sketch. Just like this we learn, line by line, detail by detail, until we are ready to learn something a bit more challenging. I now know that when we say "Mysore style" it isn't just asana practice but painting too. And even without my yoga mat, I see that this too is a yoga practice. "You see him?" Anand gestures to Tomasz, the owner and chef extraordinaire at Santosha. "You should see him before painting! Any person," Anand continues. "After ten paintings will become much calmer."

Can painting really make such a difference? Can it really teach us as much about ourselves as our asana practice? As my friend and I learn to draw the more challenging hand and feet variations and I throw down my pencil in frustration, I see how similar the two practices can be. Anand puts his hands on top of my head and takes them away as if he touched a stove, "So much heat! Be cool." He smiles. As lotuses, hands, feet, and flowers slowly unfold on our notebook pages we see that like asana practice, things come slowly, slowly.

Painting classes with traditional Mysore painting master, Anand, are offered on an ongoing basis. The average time to complete a basic painting is about one month. All levels of students are welcome to attend. Classes are held Monday through Friday at Santosha between 12 and 2 pm. If you are interested in attending a class, simply show up during class hours to talk with Anand.

Visit Santosha's website for more information on painting classes and other events.

Samskaras/ My Conditioned Experience/ Batman

I didn't know there were bats in Mysore. I thought those silhouettes of frenetically flapping wings were birds. I didn't give them much thought. My brain processed the thing that was flying as "bird" and left it at that. But then my friend jumped and yelled "bat". Until that moment, for me, bats did not exist in Mysore.

I'm riding on a scooter with my friend who just arrived and who kindly moves to the side when other vehicles come into the way. "You have to honk!" I shout into the wind. We're learning to drive like how bats fly--by sound. We're learning to define space and our position in a new way. We pass on the right. We honk when we are approaching. We move to the left when we are honked at. We place ourselves on a grid two honks forward and one to the left.

In this body and in this life I'm reminded/realizing that I have to remember to listen for the honking. Where I am in space changes and can always be different and new. There are things I never thought were physically or mentally possible that I am now doing. On a physical level I know that means something but it is on a mental level where the interesting stuff is happening. Is my body making the change or is it my mind? If it is my mind, then where is it taking me and why? I know we are working to the point of just observing, but right now I feel like there is so much happening like breathing and blinking that I have no control over and I'm just witnessing. Is this me doing this posture? Is this me lifting up? Is this me exhaling? Is this me as an intermediate student?

To be something do you have to believe it?

How to disappear completely

Where to start? How about where it ends or where it is right now. Right now I have just consumed a delicious home cooked western-style dinner at Santosha which is a local Canadian-owned restaurant. (Yes, I do eat.) I'm using the internet at my new house which I have just helped to stock with stuff to make us all a bit happier--bowls, shower squeegees, laundry cords, etc. We're all hippie, live-off-the-land types that appreciate a good granola and so have vowed to make an honest use of this kitchen. I'm listening to a mix of Indian music and political speeches coming in from outside. These sounds are all coming from the commotion around the various makeshift temples that have been built over the last week in honor of a very special Indian festival. Apparently, Mysore goes wild this week for the Hindu deities Ganesh and his mom Parvati.

A few weeks ago a friend told me why we see little elephants representing Ganesh on all the vehicles. "You see, Ganesh stickers and statuettes are there to remove obstacles". But I digress.

So everywhere this week are images of Ganesh in all sizes--from freakishly massive to teeny tiny. I've heard that many of them are made of materials that dissolve when submerged in liquid which is an answer to the baffled image I had in my mind of thousands of techni-colored elephants floating in various bodies of water around Mysore. (Part of the festival involves throwing Ganesh in the water.)

What else? Right now I am getting over a small cold (is it?) or maybe it is just a small case of back bending fever. Either way I'm tired and achy and irritable but this will pass. Just like the time. I've already been here for some time. I've already managed to not post for quite some time. It's funny how easily each day can pass into the other. Or how everyday I'm dancing on the line between avoiding myself and looking deeply into the mirror.

I'm practicing earlier and earlier and it is getting longer and longer and hopefully I'm getting stronger and stronger. Or something like that. After at least a month here you start to notice how everyone is doing the same stuff you just did. And after this second trip I'm seeing how I've forgotten how new things were last time around. And even as much as I thought I could slide back in, there is so much that is still shocking to bear. It is much like jumping into a body of cold water. I know it is water and I know it is fricking cold, but I don't really know how to dissolve until I'm up to my neck and dunking my head.