Don't you see I love you? And tips for karandavasana

Picture me shaking a rag doll viciously while screaming "I LOVE YOU!" while its head bobs back and forth and the stitch securing its button eye loosens and the eye is dangling down. And now imagine that the rag doll and I take turns shaking each other but we can't seem to figure out how to both be rag dolls or people at the same time. It goes like this: Hug the doll, love the doll, freak out and shake the doll, hug the doll again.

I wanted to practice, I wanted to swim, instead I'll run around this fantastic city and hopefully remember to remember that it won't be surrounding me tomorrow.

Kirsten's Tips for Karandavasana
1. Be sure to make the lotus as tight as possible
2. Stretch your knees up to the sky first as if someone were pulling you up. This helps you to find the bandhas
3. Steady your breath
4. Simultaneously lean your shoulders forward as you wrap your pelvis around an imaginary monkey bar. Aim your knees for your kidneys.
5. As you move, think of being inside a cylinder. You are compacting yourself and dropping straight down.
6. You have to lean your chin forward more than you think (like in bhujapidasana) to counterbalance perching your knees on your arms.
7. And then you come up and jump back. The end.

My tips for karandavasana?
1. Picture yourself on the main lawn of central park having yoga playtime/picnic with friends.
2. Be calm, relaxed, almost lazy--the grass smells fresh
3. Look forward as much as possible--you can see your thumbs and past that thousands of blades of grass
4. Stay soft yet in control--the grass is cool under your forearms
5. Nick your upper arms and then bounce to the floor butt first. Then laugh and try again.

Full Circle

About one year later I am again sitting with Kate in front of a computer listening to php fetch css go in one ear and out the other with one foot here and the other in India. Bless her patience. My flight to India is almost a day away and I want to give New York a big squeeze. I feel unprepared every time I say goodbye and one part empty one part giddy as I stand on street corners alone.

I'm all packed up and ready to go and worrying about the silly little things instead of the big ones. Maybe they seem easier to fix or maybe those are the things that make something special. I'm stepping cautiously and feel like Bambi learning to stand and the rug gets pulled out from under me and I stand and then a rip current pulls everything away but I'm still there in shallow waters watching my belongings dragged out to sea. A little sadness tugging at the bottom left corner of my heart, a little happiness and excitement pulling up the top.

I was hoping to post a picture of me happily perched in pasasana or karandavasana as a "final project" or something to punctuate my time in New York, but instead we'll all have to settle for the intangible glory of tears and toil and little glimpses of liberation.

As I savor the last few moments with my closest friends (and a few tears) I can smell the masala in the distance and can't hardly wait to shed this skin.