Everything is God

This time I'm resting on my back and all I can think of is how amazing it is that I'm lying here. My friend told me that every day she wakes up and thanks God she is here doing this. I thought it was sweet but now I'm feeling it.

A while back before ashtanga I was in corpse pose at the end of a yoga class. I was lying there and feeling my bones touch the ground. I could feel my organs and my flesh and all I could think about was how this is decaying and before I know it I will be dead.

This time I'm thinking about life. How amazing it is to be lying here. My legs work my arms work. I am alive. And even the stupid crap that pisses me off is pretty amazing. Thinking about God or Goddess or universe or whatever makes you think about how much whatever is happening is so small so insignificant and at the same time, it is all that ever existed.

Sharath is amazing. Assisting someone in supta vajrasana is not easy. Usually you sit over their crossed legs and I always have a bit of a challenge applying the right amount of weight. Sharath walks over and places his toes on my shins and I drop back as he stands over me shouting and gesturing with his arms at people around the room. Something big, something small. Looking up he is a giant and I'm so small. It ended with "Bakasana".

In bakasana, you balance on your hands with your knees on the backs of your arms and your knees bent up toward your rear forming you into a little ball. In the second variation of the posture, you have to jump into this position.

So after I get bakasana I'm on my mat thinking about how amazing this is and thinking about God and all that feeling life is this incredible joyous experience. I walk outside. I sit on my bike. I forget how to stand. I fall over and the bike falls with me. The guy with the pushcart that sells oranges laughs. The woman cleaning the driveway of the salon gasps and takes her hands to her cheeks. I laugh and get up and wipe mud off my back. In the end I'm just this ridiculous clown and some falling is just what I needed.

Getting crazy with bakasana:
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=abBwccUCFEU

A good spot

The first class of the day starts around 4:30am. You get a practice time of maybe 4:45 or 5 but everyone knows that means 4:30 if you want to be able to get "your" spot. That's right, the space you like gets permanently assigned to you by Patanjali. Yeah, I'm definitely joking. People get really possessive with their practice spaces. Me? I like to move around. Even more, I like being in the later classes where you take what ever space opens up. I'd like to think that fate picked that spot for me today, thanks. It just has a nice sound to it.

Today I was assigned the space in the back corner next to the dressing room. I thought this would not be fun because I imagined the hoards of people that would be marching in and out of that door. Actually, it was nice. It made me focus even more. My last pose today was my new pose: supta vajrasana. In Supta Vajrasana (which means sleeping or supine thunderbolt pose), you sit on your mat with your legs in a lotus position. Then, you swing your arms behind your back and catch your toes. Someone holds your legs down and you lean back and put your head on the floor behind yourself a few times with some breathing. That's it.

Saraswati came and sat on my legs. It seems funny that someone could mess up sitting on your legs, but believe me, there is a proper method and Saraswati had it down. Here is a clip of Guruji assisting someone in Supta Vajrasana at the 2002 Ashtanga Yoga World Tour in New York.

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=j2-ga9Zgv94

What day is this?

Shattered-- that's how I feel. I somehow made it to the dressing room to do my finishing poses. I slapped down my mat and reclined. My eyes open, my eyes closed, the room spinning. I wonder if this is how a broken piece of glass feels. It is the same thing, only now in a different form. My back is split open like a nut shell like a orange peel, like a pomegranate, like an exoskeleton. Yes, that's it, I feel like a lobster. The room is still spinning. What happened in there?

Some people say that the pain will come and go. Some say that it will increase over time. Some that it will decrease. This pain is an indication of change. I'm changing. Growing pains. But is this really pain? It feels more like a train stopping abruptly. Or like when the ocean pulls you under. Or a deck of cards being shuffled. I'm not in pain, I'm just overwhelmed, I'm just trying really hard, I'm really just changing. There are no words for any of it, just confusion and experience and then already almost a month has past and I don't know what exactly I have been doing this whole time. I know time is passing because tomorrow is supta vajrasana.