The "locked in" story

From the sordid tales and mixed up files of Mysore Musings, I bring you the terrific and harrowing tale of Jordana and Aliza...(aka the "locked in" story).

My Air India flight companions were the sub-continent newbies from Canada known as Jordana and Aliza. After battling the impossible, they secured a wonderfully located apartment near the shala etc. One of the many benefits of this particular property is the almost daily maid service (general cleaning--never the toilet--plus laundry). Jordana is at Anu's while Aliza is coating her face with bright green (was it?) face mask. A maid approached outside and upon reaching the front door (a screen door with metalwork permitting unauthorized entry)--knocked. Thinking no one was home, the maid entered with her own key. Unawares of the announced visitor, Aliza walks out to the living room and greets a bewildered maid. The maid doesn't speak English and Aliza doesn't speak Kannada. The maid wants her laundry, Aliza doesn't want washing today. The maid gestures with her arm--chop! Aliza says "no" by shaking her head realizing it was more of a head wobble and might mean yes. The maid thinks it is yes and moves onto more explicit demonstrations.

The maid pushes past Aliza into her bedroom, reaches under the bed, and retrieves a machete.
Aliza's face is--well, you can only imagine.

The maid motions again-chop! Aliza: Um...no thanks. The maid is back in the living room, Aliza slips into her room and closes the door. The maid leaves.

When Aliza emerges a little later to meet Jordana across the street for a meal, she realizes that she is locked in.

You see, in India, regardless of whether or not there is a "regular" lock on your door, there is usually also one of these locks. Not exactly sure why this would be commonly located outside the door. Perhaps many families have crazy uncles or other shut-ins? Who knows. Anyway, the maid had locked Aliza in from the outside. She had no cellphone. She waited. And she waited. And then she started banging on the door, begging pedestrians to let her out. Eventually Ganesh hears the commotion and maybe even sees Aliza's chin poking between the bars on her screen door. "Jordana!" He calls, "I think your friend needs you!"

It's shala time! / my first day back at AYRI

My brain is having a hard time putting together cohesive thoughts and what does come out are bursts of jittery fragmented ideas with no transitions from one concept to the other. I think this is jet lag.

I went back and forth a bit yesterday--do I register or do I not? I decided to leave it up to the fates. If I got my pin number for my debit card right, I would go on and register, if I got it wrong, I wouldn't. I grabbed my bag and walked down the road to the shala passing through the day-long tree cutting project in its first stages (by the end of the day, it was all gone and in the process was complete chaos). Heavy limbs were falling, people were gathered around yelling "watch out!" and I was tip toeing over branches and leaves as a heavy limb fell a few feet behind me.

There is a man that always hangs out in front of the shala. You go to him and tell him what you need and he generally points you in the right direction with a grin. "Can I register?" He wags his head and motions for me to follow him inside the shala (which is also where Pattabhi Jois -- Guruji -- and his family live). "I need to get money first." He wags again and sits down. I walk around the corned to the State Bank etc. to try my luck at numbers. I'm rolling over the possible combinations. You see, I thought I had the pin written down, but threw it away in one of the mass purges last week which obviously wasn't the brightest moment in my career. I thought I new it, but the more I thought about it, was that 2 a 6?, the 8 a 0?, the 1 a 7?, and so on. I think about things visually and as I pictured the code scrawled on that paper, the numbers morphed form one to the other. I enter the atm room, shove the card in a few times, pound in the password too many times and get my card blocked. Great.

At this point, I'm pretty much set on practicing the following morning (Sunday) and so walk back to the shala and tell shala man that I broke my card and so don't have money but can I still register please? He makes a face that says it all and then tells me to go ask Sharath. I climb the infamous shala stairs, past clusters of havaianas to which I add my own and step into the waiting room/vestibule of the shala. The door to the shala is open and I step inside onto the massive area rugs. As I peek into the office, I see that there are many people gathered and decide that I better wait my turn. I pace in the waiting room for what seems like years until the other students come out and I head in.

First, I see Guruji who is sitting in the chair behind the desk wearing a skull cap. Sharath is standing next to him and offers me a seat. This is when I start spewing sentences and stumbling over my words like a drug addict in withdrawal. He tells me to come back the next day at 4:45am to register with the money. Now I really need to get the money.

I call the bank, I call everyone, I lose hope, it works out (thanks Kim), I get the cash, and then hit the hay at about 7pm and wake up this morning at 3:30am for practice/registration.

It is very quiet and very dark outside except for the occasional creak of a gate or slapping of a yoga student's flip flops on the way to class. It is important to realize before anything else that the clocks in the shala are about 15 minutes in advance, this is also known as "shala time". You walk through the dark alongside silent faces to the front gate and then you wait. By now it is 4:30am. By a quarter till, shala man opens the gates and the usually quietly composed and serene yoga students push each other like fiends up the stairs and squeeze through the doors to get a space. One might assume that there is a spot for everyone, however, not all spots are created equal.

The bum spots:
1. By an open window -- breeze and mosquito central
2. Next to a wall -- you have to move and re orientate yourself during some of the postures or risk running into the wall
3. By the bathroom -- the ceiling is low and some people can't extend their arms over their heads
4. In the dressing room and waiting room -- breezy, mosquitoes, and you're not really a part of the group
5. The hump -- the shala floors are made of marble (or is it granite?) and are covered with massive multi-colored area rugs. At the places where the mats layer one another, a hump is formed. When it is really crowded, your mat might be moved on top of this making practice very awkward, lopsided, and uncomfortable

My spot today? Next to Nuno (of Portugal) and Lea (Ashtanga Canarias) on the far left side of the room. I practiced here a bit last year and I guess that as far as spots go it was great!

After putting my mat down, I went straight to the office to register. I was relieved that Sharath didn't laugh in my face and say that he meant 4:45 in the afternoon. I sat down, filled out the application and promised to bring my photo and passport tomorrow. I gave him the shala fees (27, 530 rupees which is a huge stack of bills) and he filled out a registration card with my name, date, expiration, and mysore practice time of 7am. Nice! I flipped over the application to sign my agreement that I would not practice asana or pranayama with any other teachers in Mysore, stop when the teachers tell me, and there was one more stipulation but I don't remember what it was. Then, I gathered all my courage and asked Sharath about the poses from last year and how "it" works. One week of primary was his answer. So today I had the led class, then Monday through Thursday will be mysore style where I will practice primary series. On Friday and Sunday, I will go to the led first series class and then Monday I will practice mysore doing my full primary practice plus the second series postures I got last year up until Dhanurasana before I end with back bending and finishing poses.

Practice was electric. I was shaky, stiff, and slightly disoriented from the jet lag and days off from yoga. I sweat so much from all the traveling and from working so hard. Sharath teaches like no one else. Muscles become used and blatantly obvious in ways that I can never manage to create on my own. The hard moments were in utthita hasta padangustasana, navasana, sirsasana, and of course uthplutih. But I was proud of myself and how far I've come from last year. There is always a struggle, but at least I could keep up (twitching and all).

After practice, everyone heads outside for a coconut and then I headed home for a rest. I still am so excited that I am actually here!

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.

Ashtanga for life?

The long, drawn out, musings blog. But hey, it's a Sunday!

Is ashtanga really a life-long practice? Does it actually make people healthier? Why does it seem that everyone gets injured at some point, and how many long-term practitioners are still practicing ashtanga yoga as taught in Mysore?

Okay Jason, this one is for you.

Ashtanga yoga is "advertised" as a life-long practice. Let us first consider exactly what constitutes as the life-long practice. The Yoga Sutras say that "practice" does not refer only to asana, but to the "effort toward steadiness of mind". So although I might say that I'm going to "do my practice", I am probably referring to "doing my asana practice". Asana (poses) are only one segment of the complete ashtanga yoga system, so really, I am always trying to practice an effort toward steadiness of mind. I don't go into "yoga mode" for one hour and a half while I throw myself around on a cotton rug and then go outside to yell obscenities at each asshole who crosses my path. And what if I broke my arm? What would I do then?

But if it isn't about the asanas, then how about that quote that people love: "99% practice 1% theory"? What does this really mean? 99% doing vinyasas, 1% reading philosophy? 99% muscle, 1% brain? I think it's more like 99% moving toward stillness, 1% gathering more information on how to do that. (Although one could even argue that "gathering" is effort as well. I think the real point here is that one has to actually be actively DOING this stuff rather than just sitting around thinking about how maybe one day it will come knocking on the front door.)

So if our definition of practice includes much more than asana, then it is easy to imagine people practicing well into their nineties. Might Guruji be practicing asana right now in Mysore had he not gone through his tragic loss of a son? Who can say? Would Krishnamacharya have him doing asana to help his health problems? Maybe. We see many photos and videos of Krishnamacharya practicing asana and pranayama into very old age. But for whatever reason, as far as I know, Guruji does not currently practice asana. What his daily practice consists of I cannot say. Ask him when you're in Mysore...

Does ashtanga make people healthier? If we talk only about the asanas, we find that each asana has therapeutic benefits for the body and mind from helping to remove "bad fat" to massaging the liver to aiding constipation or urinary tract problems. The vinyasa method and ujjayi pranayama each have benefits as well. Additionally, the lifestyle surrounding ashtanga yoga asana practice and ashtanga yoga practice in general promotes healthy life choices. However, like anything else in life, it is about balance, and with a little bit of effort, we can easily overdo it.

The more I think about it, the more it becomes obvious that this system is only harmful if we make it that way and we tend to make it that way when we get really involved with the ego. For example, why would someone carry on an unhealthy form of extreme dieting unless they felt that it would make their practice better? (I want to "get" karandavasana so I'm doing macrobiotic fast number 7.) Isn't it possible to make gradual changes that are healthy or even to be patient and not obsess about progress? When does effort toward stillness become unhealthy or even dangerous?

So is ashtanga yoga a yoga of injuries and pain? We can break pain and injuries associated with ashtanga yoga into a few different categories. The first type of pain is associated with an injury that was already an injury before the asana and as we push ourselves into something (because we feel we have to accomplish it) the pain of the preexisting injury doesn't go away. The second kind of pain comes when we go deeper into something and discover a misalignment that was already there and as we work through it (because we want to perfect the asana) it causes us pain. The third kind of pain happens when we push hard to get into an asana and get injured because we weren't doing it properly or weren't prepared to practice it. The fourth kind of pain comes from faking the ability to practice a posture and getting injured when a teacher calls the bluff and adjusts us deeper or allows us to continue with what we are doing.

(This argument is tricky because on the one hand, without the fire of the ego that wants to find the stillness, we would be lying on our mats doing nothing, but on the other hand, blindly following the ego into uncharted territory and trusting the drive to be the best can lead us straight off a cliff.)

But maybe it is literally supposed to be a 6 day a week asana practice. Do all the old school luminaries still practice? If the previous discussion of pain and injuries holds true, then the only way to be able to sustain is to pull back and practice with humility and patience--which probably none of us really does. But we're trying though :)

The point? I think we just don't get it yet. As much as we say it, we can't figure out how to practice without thinking about the asanas. A trip to Mysore doesn't help. You'll hear me singing the "it's not about the poses" mantra soon, but even so, I think that students get injured in Mysore because they are pushing hard to get poses. It is what it is.

No one is forcing anyone to do anything. No one tells you that you have to do something if you don't want to. There are smart ways to work with and through pain and injury and there are really stupid ways to do it too. The question is not whether ashtanga yoga is a lifelong practice but whether or not we are up to the challenge.

Monday

Sunday was spent alternating between smiling and crying and sometimes both at the same time. What will happen with me an my boyfriend when we/I go to India? What is the right choice, what will happen, how will I live alone? I'm disgusted with myself for even writing this because it is just so cheesy and dramatic but so very real at the same time. Life decisions. Bleh/yay!

On a separate (and also related) note, I'll be interviewing Kate Churchill on her upcoming film, Enlighten Up! for Living Mysore Magazine. Please send any questions you'd like me to ask to livingmysore@gmail.com.

Let the Magic Begin...

I'm standing in line (yes "in", not "on"--New York hasn't completely taken over yet) at the local post office. It is the first 80 degree day since last year and it is hot. Being there is a real trial in how badly you really want to mail something. To go there is to face all adversity in the name of something you believe in. Today, I believe I need to go to India--and dammit, I will stand in this godforsaken line as long as it takes with no food, water, nor ipod until I reach the window to mail this letter. Luckily, I picked a book off the coffee table at the last second before embarking upon this perilous journey.

I decided to read Eat, Pray, Love again. I read it shortly before leaving for India last year, and sitting there on the library shelf, I simply couldn't resist the cover.

Burying myself in this small bit of redemption, I read the following lines:

"Then I listened to the Guru speak in person for the first time, and her words gave me chill bumps over my whole body, even across the skin of my face. And when I heard she had an Ashram in India, I knew I must take myself there as quickly as possible." (p. 25.)

Just as the period falls on the end of the last sentence, the "next customer" sign lights up, the bell rings, I walk to the bullet-proof window, pass the letter in my hand through the slot provided and declare, "I'd like to mail this to India!"

Countdown to India

After three days off, I'm glad to be going back to practice tomorrow, but also amazed at how easy it would be to just forget the whole thing because practice seems so impossible and far away. There really is a 24 hour expiration on yoga.

Spent a lot of time with the family the last couple of weeks and now things have officially sprung into motion. With the official (and somewhat surprising) blessings of both sides of the family tree, the countdown begins. Next up is sending my letter and buying my ticket, giving my leave to work, selling all personal possessions, finding a sublet, and saying goodbye to friends. I'm a bit in shock, a little scared, and very excited...

Mysore on my mind

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wz8uVn-Zofk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3-8Te30H6k

More videos of the old shala:
http://aysnyc.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=106&Itemid=169

The Splits

Semi, half, no split. Which is it? It seems there is no simple answer.

First, what is "the split"? When practicing mysore style, you learn first series one pose at a time. At a certain point, perhaps your teacher will decide that you are ready for the next pose which, if you are practicing a satisfactory primary up to setu bandasana, would be pasasana--the first pose of second series. So every day, you would go do your primary series practice up to pasasana, and then maybe you get another pose, and you continue like this, adding poses onto the tail of primary until one miraculous day when your teacher splits your practice. This means that you only have to practice one series--second. Then you would go on practicing second series adding a pose now and then until you practice all of second and then you get third series postures tagged on the end. You continue adding poses to a certain point and then your teacher gives you the split this time for third series only.

In the case of the second series split (practicing only second series), you would still practice primary on Fridays. In Mysore, you might also practice primary on Sundays. This is because Sundays are the "led" days. If there aren't any second series led classes offered, then you practice first.

But the question remains: at what pose will I get spilt in second series? There are many answers. The current trend in Mysore is getting split at eka pada sirsasana. However, one must wonder if this is on a case by case basis, if this is a time and space issue, or if it is "official" policy. I've spoken to a few teachers and students on the subject, and answers vary. Some of the older teachers say that back in the day, Guruji had them practicing both first AND second series until they got to the first pose of third. I didn't hear what happened after. Others say that "past generations" were split at karandavasana. Still others recommend doing a "semi-split" until karandavasana. In this instance, one would practice the first half of primary one day plus second series asanas, the second half of primary the next day plus second series asanas, and back and forth all week.

The main reason for the longer wait for the split seems to be developing and maintaining strength for karandavasana and third series. So then why split earlier at eka pada? I've heard there have been other changes made to the practice over the years, though the reasons are hazy. I've heard there was a second variation of lagu vajrasana, for instance. I've also heard drop backs didn't happen until well into second series, instead of as the final trial before second. I've also heard that hand mudras were okay in the past, but now they aren't. Not that any of it matters really I suppose.

On my split:

I am pretty surprised at how sore my arms are and how quickly my neck is growing stronger. I figured with second series only I'd be having it easy. Not so! Perhaps it is the belly back bend/upward dog transition or some other new muscle groups being developed...And indeed, my neck is getting much stronger by the day. I remember on that first day, I had a little voice in the back of my head that was convinced my leg would push my head right of my shoulders. I am looking forward to primary tomorrow. All the forward bending is calming and soothing for my back. Plus, its a nice way to end the week.

My heart is in mysore

I just picked up this book on successful blogging at the local library (my favorite haunt). Happily flipping through the pages as I chomped down a particularly delicious (although inappropriate ayurvedically [is that even a word?] for winter and my dosha) salad with homemade ginger carrot dressing (yum), my eyes landed on the "top 10 dont's of successful blogging". Number 2, "don't let more than 3 days pass between blogs". Oops.

Well, the truth is, I didn't know if it was right to continue writing in this blog, since I was between mysore engagements and all. But I figure now, what the hey? I'll be there again soon enough and perhaps "living mysore" is all in the mind.

What's new? Russell and Sally left New York, and Guy is back at the shala. I'm curious to find out what he's going to say about my practice. You see, Russell has had me working up to yoga nidrasana and doing the "split" (which means practicing second series only). For some reason, it feels like I'm cheating or something because Guy didn't give it to me. He's going to come back and be like, "Really? Is this what you've been up to?" Its just poses, I know. But who is the one that has to let go? Is it me? Should I be like, "Okay, whatever. I'll go back to whatever I was doing before." Or is it my teacher's turn to let go? Or, does it really even matter? Maybe because I feel like I'm having fun (loads of back bending will do that for you), I feel naughty.

Anyway, I'll be in to practice tomorrow, so we'll see!

Since I've been away, I've been keeping up another blog:
www.ashtangainspired.blogspot.com. But, I think I'm going to post here mostly from now on.

A first-timer's meditations on mysore, practice, and all things India

The great thing about reading blogs is that it is like reading a story that is taking place in "real time". Well, probably because it is. I wonder if anyone out there is writing completely fictional blogs. I find this fascinating. So did I, or did I not study for three months in Mysore? You'll have to decide for yourself.

This blog chronicles my trip to Mysore, India from July-October 2007.

Unfortunately, the blog format is not very user-friendly for those wishing to start from the beginning. To read the blog from the beginning, scroll down this page and look for the "archive" located on the right. Click on "July". You'll have to read the entries from the bottom up. Does anyone know how to reverse this?

Thanks for reading my blog. If you have any questions or feedback, please email me at livingmysore@gmail.com, or leave a comment on my current project, http://www.ashtangainspired.blogspot.com/.

Things that fly

I could hear a rattle outside my window this morning and it wasn't the scratching of those Indian brooms on the cement. I tried to ignore it, but couldn't. I inched to the side of the bed and reached over to move aside the blinds. A dragonfly was stuck between the window and the mosquito screen. What I heard was the sound of a creature reaching for a chance to live, or rather not to die. I let go of the blinds and fell back into bed. It would find its way on its own. It didn't. The sounds were fading as the poor creature was slowly losing strength. I reached over again, lifted the screen, and pushed the window open. The dragonfly that was lying prone on the ledge was out the window in an instant.

I spent the day with friends at the salon getting everything on the menu that I possibly could manage. It felt like the right way to perform the ritual of leaving.

I remember when I first arrived in Mysore that I was in awe over how many butterflies I saw everywhere. Really, they were everywhere. I hadn't noticed their abundance until recently when the everyday became extraordinary again. As I waited at the gate this morning for Petra, I watched as a little green caterpillar inched across the ledge toward my chin, which was resting on one end of the gate. He had feet in the back and feet in the front and seemed to be in a great hurry.

I feel myself clinging to the warmth of this place, the safe chrysalis that I've slowly grown inside. At the same time, I'm filled with the anticipation of knowing that tomorrow I'm going to fly away.

Tomorrow morning is my last class here in Mysore, and in many ways, it feels like its going to be the first.

Last days

Remember the nineties? Do you remember those little glass containers filled with colorful oil and water that you would turn upside down to watch as one changed places with the other? And then when they successfully divided, and all was calm in that little world, you would turn it over to watch the chaos unfold once more? When I first arrived in Mysore, my life in New York slowly drifted away. I tried to cling onto a few pieces like my boyfriend, being vegan. Others I had to let go. Now, as I inch towards climbing into that car to the airport, my mind is slowly letting more and more of my life in New York back in. It seems very clear right now that I am here, not there. I've come full circle. I'm smelling all the smells again, hearing every scraping broom, looking for the details, so that I can pack them with me as I go. I think that maybe I'll realize that I'm trying to pack too much and that I'll never be able to fit Saraswati in my overhead carry on. Maybe I've become a little part of this place, and in that way, it will be easy to pack, because it is me.

Saraswati taught a really beautiful led class this morning. Some days you feel whatever it is that could hold you back, but you just keep going. You don't listen to it, you just breathe, you just move, and even though it feels like it, you don't die. For a moment, you realize that. You realize that you can do it, that what you're feeling is just that--a feeling. You watch in amazement as you do all the things that you couldn't do three months ago (or what about 3 years ago?), the things you thought were so far out of reach. You notice how much you've grown, how strong you've become, and how you (in a way) always were. You see the faces and the glow of all the people just arriving and you smile to yourself because you know they are in for one hell of a journey.

Today I've talked Tina into doing one last cooking demo/lunch for me. I'm treating it as my going away fete. Tomorrow and Sunday I'd rather not be stressing about putting together the social event of the season, so I thought this would be great. Tina organizes her kitchen so that there is the main table where she cooks, with chairs set up so that we can watch. I think of it as the Food Network live. She tells you about the spices and cooking techniques. She tells you about history and customs. And then, when you feel like you can't take it anymore, the smells have you so intoxicated you feel like you might go out of your mind, she hands you a sample that she set aside just for that moment. This goes on for more than an hour-Tina working up your appetite and then feeding you a little just at your breaking point. This culminates with a delicious feast that leaves you completely incapacitated for the next few hours. I love that woman.

The smell of Mysore

Today was my last Mysore class. I wondered what I would remember from this trip. How the morning smelled like burning sugar. How a cockroach walked toward the kitchen, stopped when it noticed me, and then continued on its way. How my shoulder felt in ankle grabbing--like the whole world was tied in a knot next to my left ear. The way I feel like I'm walking on air when I step out of the shala, and then get a little nervous of falling down the stairs. The ugly dog that hangs outside of the shala, and how I avoid it as I walk up the hill toward my house. How lying in my bed after practice, I drift off to a half-sleep where the sounds of birds become like voices and I wake up feeling like I should know the words. Or even if I could put the feeling of getting used to a new pose into a jar: the wave of sensation that lingers over the body as it adjusts to the new challenge.

I am not sure if I'm getting a little sick or if I caught some back bend fever. Yes, this really happens. After intense back bends you get sick for about 24 hours with flu-like symptoms and then you're good as new. I've gone through it a few times in my life as an ashtangi. I feel like maybe it is happening again. I feel super tired and drowsy, my back is sore, everything is achy, my throat scratches. A friend told me that she actually went to the doctor for this and he told her that this was as very real diagnosis and that it happens because the muscles in the back have a huge spasm. Sometimes this spasm around the spine is so big, that it affects the nerves and this could effect the immune system.

We said goodbye to Pete yesterday, who had been here for about a year. He was the last person who has really been here the whole time that I have. Its easy to get very close to people here. It is like dog years or summer camp. Its this violent explosion of relationships that last for a week or a month or sometimes just one special day. It seems strange to paint the picture of this place in my mind without the people that I have met in it. I can understand how it is very hard for the people who really live here long term. All the time it is like the ghosts of the people you were close with are always floating in the air, just beyond your reach. Their house hovers in the direction you remember, but the weight of knowing the emptiness weighs on your heart. It is so amazing to me how you can come here knowing no one, and leave with a network of friends smiling as they wave goodbye.

I still have four days here in Mysore and two more led classes with Saraswati. I'm slowly crossing things of my Mysore to-do list, and also deciding that some of the things aren't really important to do. Mostly I'm just being here and totally in awe of this crazy life as I look down to my feet, through the earth, and imagine myself and everyone I know standing on the other side.

Growing pains

My body is so sore. I just want to spend the whole day horizontal. But when I stop moving, all the muscles, bones, and organs begin to settle and the aching begins to crawl through my skin. I look in the mirror now and I feel like a brand new person.

The changes have happened gradually, of course, but they've happened. I'm stronger physically, and I've noticed that mentally there have been a lot of shifts as well. I feel like I have a strong sense of direction and mental clarity. My practice is different. How I look at life is different. My dreams when I sleep are different. My feet are different. My appetite and digestion are different.

I feel like I've cleaned house and noticed all the wonderful, terrible, and interesting things I have that were either tucked under something else or covered by layers of dust.

I feel at once frightened and excited to go back. Part of me cannot wait for the journey ahead, and the other part is so comfortable with the lifestyle here that it never wants to leave.

My friend, Michael, went home two days ago. I think I had asked him how he felt. He said that most people are very sad when they leave and live their "normal" life again because they leave Mysore behind. He said that wouldn't happen to him because he is going to take Mysore with him.

I cant predict what will happen with me exactly, but I do know that for a long time, I'll be able to smell Mysore radiating from me and that over time the smell won't fade, I'll simply become used to it.

When I go swimming, I usually stick my toes or finger into the water first to see just how cold this will feel on my body. I cringe and then slowly inch myself in, ugly faces all the way. But that day I saw the water and I just jumped. As I sat, dripping on my towel, my friend turned to us and said, "I don't know how you guys just jump in like that." I lied down on my chair and smiled to myself. For just a moment, in this very small way, I truly felt that anything is possible.

Some thoughts from the sidelines

I took a break from the world the last few days. A friend here calls it "caving", back home, I used to call it "going into the bunny hole", because a friend of mine that reminded me of a bunny used to scurry away to hibernate.

The first month in Mysore is all about getting frustrated, feeling uncomfortable, being excited, seeing the sites, spending rupees, eating food, meeting people, getting sick, and learning the head wobble.

The second month in Mysore is all about feeling settled, getting poses, slowing down, relaxing more, becoming a "regular" at local establishments, and settling into a routine.

The third month in Mysore is all about getting tired of saying "goodbye" and "hello" to people coming and going to or from Mysore, getting bored by the same restaurants that you frequent, being sad when that same restaurant is closed because of a holiday, being surprised to end up somewhere new, feeling rooted where you are, officially having a spot for your mat at the shala, not wanting to admit that you know how many days until you go home, not wanting to go home, and feeling reluctant to spend rupees on things hiked up to what you know and have seen is an inflated tourist price.

The buzz in my ears from my senses being overloaded by all that is India has slowly decreased over the last few months. I hadn't noticed this change until recently when I looked back with enough distance to notice that it was buzzing in the first place. But now that the noise has diminished to a quiet rumble, I've crawled out from beneath my pillow to see what the world looks like.

A useful tool when we are learning to meditate is instead of trying to focus on clearing the mind of all thoughts, you focus on one thing. For example, as a Catholic, when you are praying, you can use a rosary to keep your attention steady.

So what do we do when there is no longer something to focus on. How do you play soccer when the purpose is not to score a goal or win a point?

In practice, when you're not trying to show your practice to anyone (including yourself?), what do you focus on? Take into mind that when showing your practice, you are paying careful attention to technique. What then do you focus on? You've been running toward the beach, and then the water touches your toes and you stare across the vast stretch of sky and ocean. Your eyes jump from ship to swimmer, to bird. But when the waves have slowed and in that slow moment, there is nothing to focus on, how long can you stay in that state before the next distraction comes?

Here in Mysore, the social fire has cooled, the culture is now the norm, the weather has dulled, what then? Eat food. Watch TV and badly copied movies. Read books.

Yoga Sutra Satchidananda translation, of course:

Yoga Sutra 1.30:Vyadhi, styana, samsaya, pramada, alasya, avirati, bhrantidarsana, alabdhabhumikatva, anavasthitatvani, chittavikshepah, te antarayah.

Disease, dullness, doubt, carelessness, laziness, sensuality, false perception, failure to reach firm ground, and slipping from the ground gained--these distractions of the mind-stuff are the obstacles.

Yoga Sutra 1.31:Duhkha,daurmanasya, angamejayatva, svasa, prasvasa, vikshepa, sahabhuvah.

Accompaniments to the mental distractions include distress, despair, trembling of the body, and disturbed breathing.

Yoga Sutra 1.32: Tat pratisedha artham eka tattva abhyasah

The practice of concentration on a single subject [or the use of one technique] is the best way to prevent the obstacles and their accompaniments.

Its back to practice at the shala tomorrow from my 3 day holiday, although in many ways, the practice is never on holiday...

Sometimes I read the sutras or hear something of the sort and think, "the next time that happens, that will be how I react." Or, "Next time will be different." I remember this line in a Pema Chodron book about how a student told her how much she meant to call her, or to see her, but didn't feel it was the right time because she was falling to pieces. Pema Chodron just replied, "Who cares! Come as you are...everything will always be in pieces, so come now!" In this way, its like she's saying to stop worrying so much about the details or about stressing out about being the perfect practitioner. A person could go crazy obsessing about doing right by everything is out there. (I really was a vegan, organic, macrobiotic. It sucked.)

After being here is Mysore, I feel more and more that being here and studying at the shala and really giving my all to practice is the best thing for me. I dabbled in this or that activity just like many of the other shala students here in Mysore, but I admit that I can't be bothered to go to chanting, sanskrit, or music lessons. I'm not interested in a road trip, a transcendental meditation, or a massage course. I don't want to learn how to cook a sambar or to sing. I'm here to practice ashtanga at the shala and that's it. Its funny how simplicity can be so overwhelming.

In that same Satchidananda translation of the sutras he says, "Yoga practice is like an obstacle race; many obstructions are purposely put on the way for us to pass through. They are there to make us understand and express our own capacities. We all have that strength but we don't seem to know it...Once you put an obstacle to the flow by constructing a dam, then you can see its strength in the form of tremendous electrical power."

The ancient struggle

Do you have info on practicing 2nd series while preggers at the Shala? If so, please let me know! (See Sept 1 post)

My alarm was set for 4am. I could not get to sleep last night. Some might argue it was the large amount of chocolate I consumed after 3pm. Maybe. Maybe it was just too much thinking. In any case, the alarm went off, I reached for the clock, turned it off, and then used it to snuggle with like a stuffed teddy bear. Off to dreamland I went...

I woke with a start. Someone turned the lights on in my head and something went "shit! wake up! what time is it?" And so my eyes opened and said, "shit! I'm late!" I turned on the light and read the clock. It was 4:30. People start queuing at 4:30. I scrambled to get my things together, the sleep still aching in my bones and ran after Petra to the Shala. The gates were already open and everyone already inside when I arrived. I held my breath as I went through the doors, and laughed at how empty it was. A few weeks ago, there were 3 PACKED led classes. Now there is one comfortable led class. I got a spot, put down my mat, and tried to keep myself from getting too comfortable with closing my eyes.

Guruji walked onto the stage to lead class and before starting the chant, instructed the people set up on the stage to move their mats onto the floor. This is huge. Since I've been here, Sharath has been the one keeping things in check, with Guruji's presence being all that he could offer. But now, he's adjusting a little bit, he's organizing mats, he's added a few extra stops to the "Pattabhi Express". The pacing on Friday and today was much closer to normal. After class, a line formed in front of him. Students were taking turns bowing and saying "thank you". I know that when he came to New York, we always did this. And I've heard that in the past, people did this in Mysore as well. I was a bit thrown off when I arrived because after class, students just got up and left. On a rare occasion you would see someone pay their respects, but it wasn't the standard. This made me kind of sad. It seemed disrespectful. The energy is just different now that there are less people. More intimate. Not necessarily more serious or intense, but definitely more...something.

I stayed after my class to watch the led second series with Sharath. There were only 13 students! It was incredible to watch and must have been incredible to practice knowing that Sharath would be watching you very closely. In prasarita padotanasana, some people have this habit of inhaling into a back bend before folding forward. If its all about economy of movement and precision of vinyasa, than this isn't something one would do. In the classes I teach, I'm always like "save the drop backs!" Anyway, in the led second, Sharath was able to give more precise instructions because there were less students. When a few people did their pseudo-back bend-huge-inhale-before-folding he yelled, "No head back!"

Rachel came here not knowing any ashtanga. She said she was interested in yoga and her mom told her to do it right and go to india. So she did. She has learned the entire primary series in about 2 months, which is really fast by "Sharath in Mysore" standards. It is so incredible to think that all the information she has is what Sharath thought she needed to know. Nothing more, nothing less. It is so special.

My house mate is napping again. We are like children here in Mysore. Many naps. We were talking about it earlier, about how really, we can't be bothered to do a whole lot because we are just so tired. But its not just the physical practice that tires us out. Its like we come here to rest from life. It takes a little bit of time to do that. To decompress, then acclimate, then detox, then explore, the prioritize, then experience, then form habits, then perhaps journey back.

I just read an article in a Rolling Stone that I found on our bookshelf. The magazine is celebrating 40 years of "being" and interviewed many different luminaries that have colored our collective history. In an interview with Bob Dylan, he talks about what it was like to become "Bob Dylan" when he first went to New York. (By this I mean, he was discussing his creative process when writing songs.) He says,

"'What is human nature really like?' Not 'what am I really like, what do I really like, what don't I like, what am I all about?' Not that kind of thing, but 'what are all these invisible spirits all about?' ... Its a more ancient struggle."

I think its important to stay out here for a long time. Its not about the postures, or getting more poses. There's so much more to explore in here (pats head and heart). So much to sort though. My house mate says the purpose of life is to find ourselves.

I'm reminded of the "one year to live meditation" which, for me is a bit challenging because if I really did it full blast, there would be nothing left in my wake. So, i'm doing a more sattvic version because I will probably be alive in a year.

Anyway, if you're in the US, check out this list of 40 songs that changed the world. (I wish I had the person's job who gets to make lists like this all the time.) This is worth a look! Music. Aaaah.

I'm really enjoying lists of things to do before you die. I started to make my own list before knowing there were so many lists. I was happy to see there were many things I already was doing. I'm not sure what is better. Just living without lists and letting things happen or making a list and trying my best to make it happen. I think it is the same, but one way may use more paper...

100 things to do. brass612.tripod.com/cgi-bin/things.html

200 things to do. http://www.dramaking.de/archiv/363

Maxim's list of things to do. http://www.maximonline.com/articles/index.aspx?a_id=4119

a lot of people have got a thing with swimming with dolphins. *shrug*

Interesting blog on the subject:
http://hirak.blogspot.com/2005/05/100-things-to-do-before-you-die.html

Website of stories from people who are actively trying to tick things off their lists: http://www.2dobeforeidie.com/

Movie about a young mother who finds out she is going to die and makes a list. Very sad. "My life without me".

I met a man wounded in love/I met a man wounded in hatred
Dylan. Wow. He blows my mind every time. I'm downloading videos of the 40 songs while I write this and you have to listen to this if you want the full experience. Also you should read this on the floor kneeling on cushions with the windows to your house open and the sound of rain drowning everything else.

And now, Dylan:

Labor Day: Practicing while pregnant

A question:

Is there anyone out there who has information about practicing second series while pregnant? If you practiced here at the Shala or with an authorised/certified teacher, please send me your info. I have a friend who needs some support and has a few questions...

The blog:

Super-expensive dark chocolate, crackers, cookies, Rachel's "homemade peanut butter" disaster, domino's "mexican way" pizza.

Last night I ate myself into a food coma. It can be very easy sometimes to get caught up in things that don't really exist. We create problems because deep down, parts of us really enjoy some of the emotions that pain brings. I miss ___ terribly.

I've been thinking a lot about life and mine in particular and I don't want to discuss any of that here, but that probably explains why this post and some others have been sparse. Long-distance relationship depression is pretty common here. I saw three instances of teary eyes this morning alone.

Being here, daily life revolves around practice. Saturday we are resting our bodies for the week to come. Tomorrow, 5 am led class, 6:15 led second class. I "slept in", and have no real intentions to leave my house. But if the sun is aligned in the right way, I might go to the veggie stand to get more eggplant. I'm thinking of making tina's stuffed eggplants today. (I put the recipe on a past blog). I made a test batch 2 days ago. Some were good, some bad. Hopefully today it will just be good.

My arms are sore. I think I might be growing some muscles--imagine!

All I want to do is hang out around the house and watch movies. Why doesn't the video store deliver?

Discovery: Domino's now has a Gobi Manchurian pizza. I would never be this insane in New York.

Summer Camp

Everyone is leaving. Life in Mysore is now practice, eating, sleeping, and saying goodbye. The few of us still around are excited about the less crowded shala and the possibility of more personal attention, surrendering to Saraswati (because its all you can do), a later practice time, and Guruji adjustments. Yes, it may be a bit optimistic, but he was very peppy last week, and today's led class was a lot closer to old Guruji style.

The energy has shifted in the Mysore community. In July, it was very intense, almost stressful at the Shala because there were just so many people. And everywhere you went post-practice was packed. Now, things are a bit slower, a bit easier. I get this feeling of sentimentality from people. Today with Guruji teaching, it felt like the room wanted to hug. Rachel says maybe we've just settled in, and now, everything is a little softer since we're not faced with fight or flight all the time. We've learned how to deal with situations, how to relax, how to be here.

Yesterday's practice was incredible. The bloating had gone down, the diarrhea was was on its way out, I felt very light, although also a bit weak. I had to practice very slow. I didn't want to overexert myself because without a doubt, I am still dehydrated (yes, I know I'll get the electrolyte powder eventually). But because of this, the practice was so sweet. When I got to back bends, I felt incredibly open. I did one, walked close, two, walked close, and on 3 i have been taking one hand to my ankle, putting it down and then doing the other and then standing up. Yesterday at that moment I put my left hand out, grabbed just above my heel, then said "why not?", and took my right hand and grabbed my right ankle. I hovered there in that moment thinking "FUCK! I am holding my ankles!" Without thinking it. My body was just exploding all nerves surging, all atoms vibrating, smiling from the inside, when all of a sudden, somewhere in the back of my mind began to say, "you are going to fall over'. My mind and body didn't know which way was up or down or how to handle it, so I clung to my ankles for dear life as I fell back onto my elbows. My upper back went CRACK! And luckily, it felt really really good. I let go of my ankles, put my hands on the floor and came back up to wheel. Laughing at how funny that probably looked to whoever saw, like Bambi trying to stand up for the first time. All awkward and innocent.

I did the standard 3 drop backs on my own, then 3 half ways with Sharath followed by what is now upper-calf grabbing. I held on and began to straighten my legs. Chakras spinning up toward the sky, shining light charging. Aaaaaaaaah.....And then up to stand and back to the floor for forward bend.

I left practice on cocaine and cloud nine and ecstasy and bliss. I felt like anything is possible, like I had jumped over a 10 foot fence. Like I could lift a car over my head and chop open a coconut with my hand. HiYah!

Like any high, later that day I crashed hard. Sitting in the living room alone thinking how I wanted something but couldn't figure out what, pouting my little heart out. Yoga is so funny.

The weather is good for being sentimental right now. Its been overcast and threatening to rain. It makes me feel like watching horror movies, wearing black, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes with my legs crossed showing off calf-length black boots. It feels like New York. It feels like the end of Yoga Summer Camp.

I also recently saw the film "Guru". It is short, like all yoga docs, but it truly captures what it feels like to be here because the camera stays almost the entire time in Gokulum (the neighborhood we live in). See it!

The best diet ever!

Sometimes you hear famous last words and you always laugh a little to yourself, shake your head, and say, "famous last words", as if they don't, or won't apply to you. At India Song House Monday night, I sat next to a friend, who most definitely noticed my drop in weight and pale pale skin. She had done a castor oil bath the day before, which had completely destroyed her will to eat, so we shared a common bond. I was under the impression that well, if you couldn't vomit the water, you'd pee it out eventually. Another friend had confirmed this, adding that you should chase the salt water with 1.5 liters of regular water and you'd be peeing your little heart out, feeling right as rain. However, this friend said that she heard that yes, it goes right through you, but not the way you want. Hmm.

Famous last words. Never before have I experienced such incredible misery. I have almost gotten used to it. Despite all my resistance, I have decided to see a doctor and an astrologer. I think between the two, they'll be able to sort me out. That's if I can be bothered to leave the house, of course.

I've moved again.

Right next to the shala. Beautiful house. Big, clean, wireless internet, tv, dvd, a maid, someone to do my laundry, someone to do my dishes. I will never leave.

Sometimes people really surprise you. I was so afraid I might shit my pants in practice today in a very real way. Before putting down my mat, i went into the office to talk to Sharath. I think a lot of people feel like you're not supposed to talk to him, but I feel like he's my teacher, so why not? So I told him that I was feeling sick and didn't know what practice would be like today. he said to just do what I can. He really responded in such a compassionate way, that I was taken aback a little. i feel like he really is watching us, that he really does care, that there is so much more there that we'll never know because there are just so many people here.

On Monday, I saw Guruji stand up from his throne on the stage, walk toward the men's room and instead of going in, he leaned on the door so that he could assist someone in suptavajrasana! (Just like in this picture, but imagine Guruji instead of Sharath). Today, he did the same thing, and I heard later that he adjusted other people as well and tried to assist someone in back bends, but they wouldn't let him. (click here for more on this morning). Sometimes people really surprise you.

Many people are leaving, or have left. I heard tina's had like 3 people there this morning. There are lots of extra spaces in the Shala, and there is virtually no wait time at the door. Loads of houses have opened up, and its getting very quiet and a little sad as many of the 'long timers' begin to make their travel arrangements, take more photos, and begin to say goodbye. I'm looking forward to Saraswati's classes. I wonder how many people will stick around. I know for sure there will be at least 4 of us!

Happy Birthday John!

PS-I heard from a reliable source that Sharath also is a fan of the Gobi Manchurian! (see pic above).

Alex on the best diet ever:

tap water. you have one spoon in the morning, one at night, and before you know it--thin as a rail!

Between my diarrhea and her vomiting, I'd say we are the poster children for parasite-related weight loss...