Jivamukti (it's not what you think)

Where is freedom located?  

In a country?  A landscape?  In nature?

Is it in my foot?  My head?  My heart?

  

There is something incredibly satisfying about that moment when you see that the final knot you are about to unravel is laughable.  You'll have clean, unhindered string in your hands in a moment so you take a moment to savor all the time and turmoil, all those moments when you wanted to cut away the knots and settle for a shorter piece, before you slowly undo those silly first wrinkles that started it all and liberate the string. 

For a whole year I've been the "Princess and the Pea" about this wrinkle in my body, in my practice.  The imperfect perfect back bend.  The gummy left shoulder.  The ache the pain the sensation the nerves the bones the muscles the emotions the drama the drama the drama.  And then an opening.  A real opening.  There are two kinds of "openings":

1.  Sammy locked himself out of his house.  He pulls on the door handle.  He kicks and he screams.  Maybe he breaks a window and busts in.  Maybe he blows up the whole house, digs through the rubble and holds up the shiny key triumphantly while standing on top of what used to be his stove.

2.  Sammy locked himself out of his house.  He realizes there is no way to open the door without a key.  Yes, maybe he has moments of kicking and screaming, but knows deep down that resistance is futile.  So he waits.  He knows that eventually a roommate will come by or a neighbor who has a key to let him in.  Eventually, someone does show up.  He laughs, feels like an ass, and picks up his key from the dining room table.

My opening was of the second variety.  I had to wait. Like water making the Grand Canyon-- waiting.  No more pain, no more pushing, no more trying.  Just waiting.  And then, today, it happened.  Piggybacking yesterday's physical epiphany, I was there (in "ankle grabbing").  (Keep in mind that this is all relative but...)  Feet were on their way to being parallel, legs were going straight, chest was expanding, elbows drawing together, hands holding back of knees, and then it happened.  It was like someone walked through me.  A cold breezy feeling in the muscles of upper, inner thighs.  A release in tension and a strong circular feeling.  I felt "red" like a fire truck in the sun.  I stood up.  I got it.  I understood it.  This is what it is.  I stood there in shock with a huge, goofy grin plastered on my face.

Before and at the beginning of practice I had a strong sense of joy for life, the world, myself, an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness.  But it was democratic, everything was equal.  I loved the stinky garbage I walked by just as much as I loved the sun on my neck.  I wanted to be single and to change my whole life and experience everything out there (unhindered) in the world because there is just so much to enjoy.  

After practice I had a strong sense of joy for life, the world, myself, an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness.  And in it, everything had its place.  I loved the sticky garbage just as much as I loved the sun on my neck.  I wanted to stay here forever and experience every moment of my little existence because there is just so much to enjoy.

"But I don't want to lose you,"  head shakes and hands wave in the air.  "I'm so comfortable with our life together."

"When you say that, I feel trapped,"  I feel scared.  I feel safe.

Pages slowly peel the days from the calendar.  The pile of belongings grows exponentially behind the chair in the back room.  Practice-drenched clothing dries on the chair.  

A Day in the Life/Running on empty

Seinfeld:  The Dealership

[Setting: Dealership car]

RICK: (Trying to look at the gas gauge) Where is it now?

KRAMER: There’s still some overlap between the needle and the slash below the "E".

RICK: How low are you gonna go?

KRAMER: Oh, I’ve been in the slash many times. This is nothing. You’ll get used to it. Just, (Makes a popping sound) put it out of your mind.

RICK: Have you ever been completely below the slash?

KRAMER: Well, I almost did once, and I blacked out. When I came to, the car was in a ditch, and the tank was full. I don’t know who did it, and I never got to thank them..

RICK: (As the car slowly drifts off the road) Mr. Kramer, the road!

(Kramer swerves around, trying to get back in place)

KRAMER: Whoop! Whoop!

It is 4:27am the alarm is going off.  I feel as broken and bruised as any poor soul with a full day of work ahead and three days of illness behind.  The trick?  No thinking.  Shower.  Clothing.  Keys.  Walk.  Subway.  Stand. Switch.  Stand.  Switch.  Stand.  Walk.  Elevator.  First class of the day.

"Are you doing mula bandha?"  Rachel asks me.

"Huh?"  Did I hear her right?  We are sipping water next to "assisting towels", boxes of tissue, while we sit on the radiator.

"Right now, are you doing mula bandha?"  She repeats.

"Why?  Do I look like a tight ass?"  We both chuckle as much as you can with rings under your eyes.  But its easy to forget the hunger, the sickness, the fatigue, the fight, the drama, when there's a handful of students in front of you, each with his or her own practice, each with his or her little universe unfolding one piece at a time.  

Setting: Dealership car]

(The needle is now below "E". Rick is looking at it)

RICK: Is it just the angle I’m looking from?

KRAMER: No, Sir. We are down there.

RICK: Oh, this is amazing! Oh, I’ve never felt so alive!

KRAMER: All right, I’m satisfied. We better get some gas.

RICK: What? Well, we can’t stop now.

KRAMER: What do you mean?

RICK: We have to keep going - all the way back to the dealership. That was the plan.

KRAMER: There was no plan.

RICK: Well, let’s make it the plan! Let’s just… go for it! Like Thelma and Louise.

KRAMER: What, they drove to a dealership?

RICK: No, they drove off a cliff.

(Kramer eyes Rick, frightened)

KRAMER: You are one sick mama… I like it.

RICK: Mr. Kramer, the road!

(Kramer swerves around again)

KRAMER: Yup! Yup! 

It's my turn now.  Down the stairs.  Walk through the park (I love New York).  Subway.  Sit.  Switch.  Subway.  Sit.  Walk.  Down the stairs.  Kick off Havaianas.  Grab mat.  Practice.  

Still stuffy.  Why do I feel like I need to say it like I have to justify my practice?  Who really cares anyway besides my ego?  (My ego does set some pretty high and often unattainable standards...)  It is day two of amazingly sweaty.  By the end of the Surya Namaskars I'm drenched in sweat.  (This is an event for me because I'm the non-sweater.)  One of the perks of being sick and coming off of it is what it does to the breath.  It has the deep, sultry, thick, hum that I find soothing.  I'm starting to notice the effects of the chest expanding preps I've been working on.

1.  In all day-to-day activities, listening to my Mom and standing up straight with shoulders back.

2.  Making a point of alternating shoulder use for shoulder bag.

3.  "Sucking up" forearms in downward dog.  This is a hard one to explain.  Ask an Iyengar teacher.

4.  Emphasizing all things with expansive qualities such as the "ekam" part of the wide legs standing poses.

5.  Elbows up, fingers send spine forward in parsvottanasana.

6.  Pressing bottom tips of shoulder blades toward heart in heart openers of second series.

7.  Drop backs.  From standing with arms straight up to the sky and dropping straight back from there.

8.  Opening chest in uttana padasana.

9.  Lengthening the inhales (which makes them even to the exhales for me).  

10.  Better leave this blank in case I forgot something.

The results:

1.  Better posture.

2.  Better breathing.

3.  Spacious upward dog.

4.  Kapotasana feels more like a circle and less like a triangle.  Going straight to grabbing heels and now ankles, even on a sick day.  Feeling like there are options in the "b" part of the pose.

5.  Holding knees today in ankle grabbing with almost straight legs, parallel feet, and happy feelings.

6.  All those warm fuzzy emotions that come when you're opening your heart.

[Setting: Gas station]

(Kramer pulls the car into a gas station and gets out)

KRAMER: Cars can go on empty, but not us humans, huh, fella? I’ll get us a couple of Twix bars.

RICK: No, no coconut for me.

KRAMER: All right, I’ll get ya a Mounds bar. Keep the engine running.

(Rick sits back in the car a second, then hurriedly jumps out and reaches for the gas pump. Kramer pops up from behind the pump and scares him)

RICK: Ahh!

KRAMER: No, man! Not the gas!

RICK: But it needs it, Kramer! It needs it bad!

KRAMER: Do you think that this’ll make you happy? ‘Cause it won’t!

RICK: (Walking away) Ah, you can just go on without me.

(Kramer grabs him by the collar)

KRAMER: Listen to me. When that car rolls into that dealership, and that tank is bone dry, I want you to be there with me when everyone says, "Kramer and that other guy, oh, they went further to the left of the slash than anyone ever dreamed!"

(The car makes puttering noises)

RICK: Maybe we better get moving.

KRAMER: It’s good to have you back, Stan.

(Both hop into the car)

RICK: It’s Rick, by the way.

KRAMER: No time! 

I've got pants on and I'm digging through my bag.  Yes, my chest is open.  So open that I'm standing here topless without bra.  

"Here--this is new."  "A" hands me a size "x small" American Apparel see-through triangle bikini top bra.  Its better than nothing.  We all have a good laugh at just how open my chest is.  

Time for breakfast.  Walk.  Bird poops on scarf.  Subway.  Sit.  Walk.  Bus.  Walk.  Stairs.  Home.  Eggs on a pan.  Whole grain freshly baked bread.  Two minutes of The View.  Grab keys.  Back down the stairs.  Walk.  Bus.  Walk.  Blast of AC as I step into the health club.

[Setting: Dealership car] 

(Rick and Kramer are driving back to the dealership)

RICK: (Seeing the turn-off up ahead) There’s the dealer!

KRAMER: Hey!

RICK: We did! We pulled it off! I can’t believe it! Where’s the needle?

KRAMER: Oh, it broke off, baby! Woo, hoo, hoo!

RICK: Oh, Mr. Kramer, I gotta thank you. I - I learned a lot. Things are gonna be different for me now.

KRAMER: Well, that’s a weird thing to say…

RICK: I wonder how much longer we could have lasted.

KRAMER: Yeah, yeah. I wonder… hmm.

(They both eye each other, then lock hands. Kramer slams on the gas, and they both cheer and scream as they drive on) 

20 minutes of reflection and endless list making. Gulps of water.  Teaching class.  "Stay in chaturanga--don't hurry..."  Exit AC.  Walk.  Car skids to a stop a few feet in front of me.  It continues for two blocks going in reverse on a one way.  Teaching class.  "Don't hurry!"  Laughing.  Sweating.  Raining.  Smiling.  Celebrating.  Long walk home.  Bus.  Food.  Cushy couch.  Blog.  Gulps of water.

[Scene cuts to Kramer and Rick. Still yelling, they slowly come to a stop]

KRAMER: Ya-hoo! Ya-hoo! (Rick is silent) Whew! Well, I think we stopped.

RICK: You - you can probably let go of my hand now.

KRAMER: Yeah, yeah. (Getting out of the car) Well, I’ll think about it..

RICK: Do you have my card? 

This is an amazing ride.