My Favorite Moments

There are two places in my practice that I think I can call my favorites.  Maybe I experience "pratyahara" (a withdrawal of the senses), maybe I experience pure bliss, weightlessness, or just a feeling of overwhelming calm.  I'm not sure how to describe the feelings because they are so strong and pungent and rich that I can't really put my finger on exactly how to define them.  And yet, they are so simple it is silly.

The first moment is in Prasarita Padottanasana A.  I feel like I'm crawling into a 2 x 2 cave, head first.  I feel like an ostrich with my head stuck in the sand.  All I can see is the tip of my nose.  There is nothing else.  And I want to stay here forever.  Time stops, gravity stops, sound stops, thoughts stop.  I am not me, or 23, or fat, or skinny, or hungry, or smart, or rich, or poor, or in NY, or wearing black pants, or practicing.  Nothing exists.  I am just there.  And it feels very safe and calm.  It feels like I stuck my head up in the clouds to soon and I was invited to stay--but only for a few minutes--before being thrown back down to the earth.  And then I finish my fifth breath and try to hold on to the feeling, but lose it every time.

The second moment is when exiting uthplutih at the end of practice.  Yes, in theory I should lift up in lotus and swing right back into chaturanga without touching the floor.  But until then , I am swinging forward onto my knees, rolling forward onto my elbows, launching my tail into the air and stretching my legs out behind me before lowering into chaturanga.  Same feelings as described above but also like the flying dream where I am floating above oceans and cities and houses and trees and mountains and clouds and then I slowly loose altitude and crash into the sand.  

I've got a ticket to ride

I bought my ticket to Mysore this past week. Another step toward becoming official. It won't really feel real until the apartment gets emptier. Although now that I think that thought--"the apartment gets emptier"--I had the feeling of standing in this apartment when I first moved in. How completely empty it was and how quickly it can be that way again. How real everything feels in this moment, how heavy every object is around the house, and in a few months, it will all just be a memory.

But that is exactly why it has to be now. That is exactly why I have to go and uproot and begin this journey--because this life can very quickly disappear and will.

I once went to a Jivamukti class taught by my friend, Heather. There was a lot of talking at the beginning because it was after all a Jivamukti class. And as resistant as I am to sit and hear someone yap (a small price to pay for some fun and challenging sequencing), Heather always talks sense and gets me to soften up to the experience for what it is. That day in particular, she was talking about death. How every time you exhale you are dying. Absence of air, the end of breathing is death. Every time you exhale, you are jumping off a cliff. Every time you inhale, you are carried right back up to the top only to jump again. A chance to start all over again.

I'm taking the pranayama and philosophy course that my teacher, Guy, is offering. When we hold all the air out and retain, what is that? It is like dying and then floating there just because you can. Retaining the inhales and inhaling in general tends to be much more challenging to me. What is that all about? I've always considered myself a bit of an optimist. I suppose I've also been a bit manic depressant as well. Maybe I'm just like my former boss said-- "You are a sensation junkie." And she didn't even know the half of it.

Or maybe going to India will only feel real when I'm sitting on the plane watching the city get smaller below me.

If you like horror movies, I just saw "Teeth". Two words: vagina dentata.