Holy toe!

Last year someone was whining to me about their torn up toe. Yeah yeah yeah I said. Nope that hasn't happened to me, didn't you know I was invincible? Duh!

Slowly, my mortality revealed itself. Dry, chapped skin and callouses around my big toes have formed protective coverings marking exactly the spots where my toes roll from chaturanga to up dog and up dog to down dog. Yes, it is a little ugly but not the end of the world. Nothing a proper and regular pedicure regime couldn't counter. But now it has gone too far. There wasn't any callousing around the bottom of my big toe and a few days ago I noticed that the skin was tearing and then it just ripped. It looks like a splintered piece of wood and feels like it too.

"You have 'Mysore toe'?!" My friend yells. Huh--no, me? Of course not. She explains that that was why Sharath's toes were all taped up when we were in Mysore. Really? I ask her. Uh huh. The story goes that she went in to ask Sharath about it during the Indian afternoon class (westerners at crack of dawn, Indians in afternoon). "OH MY GOD! So THAT'S why you have tape on your toes!" She's yelling, he's adorable and quiet. He laughs a little and says shh.

"Ah ha!" Moments and Guess What? I Love Gymnastics

A few months back, I was busy pondering the difference between my back bends and what they could be. To review, my Iyengar friend Cory Washburn suggested that I "mull over" the concept of opening the back of my knee in drop backs. And mull I have in the hopes of obtaining more control and possibly that ever so lovely moment of suspension before delicately resting my hands to the floor and of course, coming up with no clear indication to the onlooker that that was what was about to occur: it was yoga magic. I knew that this would change a few things and require a shift in mind and body, but the idea of a "pain"-free and healthy back bend (productive back bending, really) kept me optimistic. I also knew that an indicator that I was if fact opening the back of my knee was being sore in my hamstrings and possibly belly instead of my quads and low back.

Almost two months later, I'm coming up from knee grabbing with legs straight and my butt on fire, my salambasana flying, lagu vajrasana a guarantee, and mayurasana becoming increasingly accessible. So there we have it--ah hah!

I don't remember what exactly compelled me to look up gymnastics on the internet, but somehow there I was googling away. Maybe it was the swimming trials on TV and I thought that watching gymnastics trials might be a great way to spend a rainy afternoon... Anyway, one thing leads to another and I'm watching youtube videos of elite gymnastics training. What I found particularly interesting was the number of tears, heartbreak, and toil behind the scenes movies that were listed. So it is hard. I get it. I love that people make videos of it. My favorite was a clip of this tiny girl maybe 8 years old in a supta padangustasana type position with her coach sitting on her extended leg while he pushed her raised leg with two hands into her face. She alternated between pushing her leg away and arms to the sides in exasperation, all in a fit of tears and agony. Wow.

I got to thinking about the similarities between the tears and toil in ashtanga practice and gymnastics and then between the two practices (and dedication to anything, really). There is quite a bit of hard work, frustration, and dumb and numb persistence involved. I know that even mentioning gymnastics on an ashtanga blog is controversial. Let's just get that out of the way.

Why would it be controversial? Well in case you're new, here's the rundown:
1. Because the origins of the hatha practice of ashtanga yoga are a bit vague. There, I said it. The original text that the practice is based on called the Yoga Korunta was eaten by ants, disintegrated, burned, vanished, etc. Some people say that it was a mix of yoga stretches, gymnastics, and wrestling exercises. Ashtanga people don't like this interpretation at all because it implies that the practice is very much based on practices that could be considered superficial in that they are based in the physical rather than the mental.
2. Because maybe people might think that I was a gymnast up until yesterday and so obviously this makes ashtanga yoga so easy for me and there is no merit in anything I do or say because I didn't have any tears or toil. I admit, I did gymnastics for a couple of years as a kid with Olympic dreams...REALLY big dreams. However, when I started yoga, I couldn't touch my toes. Now dancers are a whole other story...jk
3. Because if I'm entertained by gymnastics then I must hold a lot of merit in the physical aspect of practice and therefore am an asana-obsessed ego maniac. This one is true. ha.)

Now back to the gymnastics. I'm fascinated by the whole thing. The coaches, the grueling training, how strange it is to glamorize prepubescent girls, the eating disorders, the drama, the psychology, the voyeurism, just all of it. But most of all, I find it incredibly interesting that gymnastics is largely a kids' sport that destroys their bodies, while ashtanga yoga is extremely physically demanding, yet can be maintained for a lifetime and actually makes the body healthier. Where is the line drawn? Obviously, there is much more to this crazy ashtanga stuff than the poses.

24 Days Until India--what's a girl to do?

I have been slowly preparing for the trip. I thought I'd just have my essentials by now. Everything else cleared out and gone. This proved to be more challenging that expected. I suppose I work better with a deadline and under pressure. So with less than a month to go, the clock is in motion, the to do list is in my hand, it is time to get down to business. Now with the anticipation of the departure overriding the feelings of impending doom (what are we going to do? are you coming? etc.), it is a bit easier to make the piles and fill the garbage bags.

It is a little depressing--not the cleaning out part, the fact that a good majority of my stuff is garbage. I just want all my little memories to continue in the happy care of somebody and not a landfill.

To Do:
Cancel magazine subscriptions
Get all bills on auto pay
Get mail forwarded to another address
Organize finances
Purge house: sort through belongings (sell, trade, giveaway, garbage)
Cancel Netflix
Consolidate belongings
Reconnect/say goodbye to friends
See family
Get final paychecks
Return any borrowed items from library, friends, etc.
Have stoop sale
Put stuff on craigslist
Sell books to The Strand
Cook, bake, eat food!
Move out
Buy "India" clothes to have copied
Buy needed items for India

The Sternoclavicular Joint and Thigh Grabbing

I stretch my neck forward and turn on the bright light in the bathroom. "What the--Come look at this!" One of my collarbones seems to be noticeably more visible than the other. But this isn't what bothers me, it's the little bruise marking a small ball where my collarbone meets my sternum. That can't be good.

I find it fascinating that the only joint connecting the arms to the torso is this small little spot. It is so small and delicate like a little flower. And here I come jumping and flying off my trampoline into the flower bed. Stomp.

It doesn't hurt, but it does feel like something is a little off. That said, this is an ongoing asymmetry. A few years ago I was a model for a chiropractic body evaluation teaching session where the student looked at me to learn how to "read" a body. Things that are off when you are standing--such as a shoulder scooping forward a bit more than the other or a hip that does the same--aren't a big deal because you can fix them by changing your physical patterns in day to day life. It's the things that show when you are lying down that are a bit more stubborn. On the day, I had nothing that was obvious when lying down.

I forgot about this stuff until the last few months when I have noticed that sometimes the joint pops or cracks when I'm in upward facing dog. It doesn't feel bad or painful, just weird--kind of embarrassing because I feel like a mutant.

I figure some practice with attention to this area will help put it back in place...

With my mind so focused on all this craziness, when it came to back bending I sort of laughed and joked: "Yeah yeah today...thighs!" And thighs it was. Well, "thigh" actually, but that's a start.

The Fourth of July and Other Favorite New York Past Times/Fear and Loathing in New York

Flood lights are turning the sky a milky hue, helicopters are circling overhead and shining spotlights down on the large gathering of people who have been corralled into this smallish riverside patch of grass (that is often generously referred to as a "park"). Police officers litter the crowd, stand in dark corners, are perched from view towers, and are checking bags at a make-shift gate. "This is a police state...They're gonna unload on the crowd, man!"

There are people everywhere. We wander aimlessly, trying to lay claim to a patch of grass not occupied or surrounded by screaming children with tennis balls or water guns. Like bugs to a light bulb, our natural instincts pull us closer to the water, closer to the Macy's boat which will be blasting massive explosives into the air. We fight the pull of nature and walk toward the exit, picking a spot that allows us an easy escape.

"I dare you to open that pizza box!" The group of friends in front of us has stood up from their blanket to see if the show is starting --how this would give them any information beats me-- leaving a box of Fornino's tasty pizza vulnerable to our antics. But is the box empty? The question plagues us. We go back and forth over how funny it would be to ask them for a slice or whether or not we should just open the box (not that we'd actually eat it, of course). Others around us begin to stand up. Again, what they think they will see puzzles us all. A portly woman stands and balances precariously on a cement balance beam which separates the concrete picnic table area from the grass patch where we and the pizza box sit. We look at each other with eyebrows raised, "That box is going to get stomped when the show starts". It happened sooner than that. It happened sooner than the "healthy" American lost her balance. The woman's obese daughter in Nike high tops and cutoff shorts stomped onto the balance beam with knees high, she stomped onto the grass, and then raised her foot high and stomped on the pizza box.

"Oh!" Did we shout it, or did our eyebrows mime it? Either way, it happened. The group of friends and sad owners of the leftover pizza (seems there was some left) turned around aghast. You see, there are invisible and unsaid divides between different cultures/income levels/age groups in New York. The girl looked at the group and smiled as she stomped again. The mother laughed. The friends moved the pizza box.

We couldn't handle it. We had to get out. We fought against the stream of umbrellas, coolers, and glow sticks to the exit shining a few meters ahead. Dogs were barking impending doom. We walked and walked until there were no more cops. We found a small alleyway where everyone could pee behind cars while the "bombs burst in air". We couldn't hear the car alarms going off anymore, only the loud blast boom and rumble in our hearts.

Clothes do matter -- Hot shorts!

Whenever I brought a friend home, my brother would embarrass me with threats of digging the old "Pre-Teen America" videos out from the bottom of the VHS drawer. I was usually able to quell the enthusiasm that followed by giving in and telling at least one embarrassing moment from said event in exchange for not pressing "play". The favorite was my answer during the Q and A session amongst the last finalists. (Although the most embarrassing was my rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", where I freaked out and ended up lip syncing...yikes! I knew better than to mention that as that would ensure the tape be played.) So I'm up on stage and I have to pick a question out of a fishbowl full of folded up pieces of paper. My question reads "Do the clothes make the woman or does the woman make the clothes?" Ah but the answer was so easy, so obvious! And yet, when I opened my mouth, I opened with the opposite response -- "The clothes make the woman" -- followed by my explanation of how it is what is inside that counts. Right.

Some Mormon dairy farmer's daughter in a horrific Easter dress from JC Penny's ended up winning, with me in 3rd or 4th place. But now I see that my Freudian slip was kind of true, at least as applies to yoga practice.

Huh?

In a previous post, I talked a bit about yoga clothing and the three gunas. As much as I would like to wear whatever, practice on whatever, and have it not matter because my practice is too "real" or "strong" or whatever to be effected by superficial real-world nonsense, it is just not entirely true. When I wear clothes that are baggy, sloppy, or ill-fitting, I am distracted, uncomfortable, and feel "heavy". It's like standing next to someone who is really put together while you are wearing grey sweatpants with oil stains, sandals with socks, and an over sized T-shirt. What I wear doesn't make or break my practice, I don't obsess about it or anything, but when I purchase yoga clothing, I keep in mind how it will make me feel during practice. As much as I like the loose fitting Be Present pants, for example, the drawstring waist hikes up too high or too low, I get wedgies, and all that extra flapping around me is a "drag"--pun intended.

Sloppy yoga clothes don't work for me. Also as a yoga teacher, it is better when students avoid looser clothing because the teacher can better see what is happening in each asana. (PS- I have seen a lot of underwear and g-strings exposed by the Be Present pants.)

On the opposite end of the spectrum, too little clothing doesn't work out either. Today the shala is closed, so I practiced primary at home--in my underwear. Well, at least that's what I would consider it. But it seems that there are plenty of people who look totally normal practicing while wearing almost the same getup...

Kundalini teacher Ana Brett
Yoga Journal's 2008 Calendar


Of course, we have all also seen plenty of shirtless men with their itty bitty black spandex shorts. They don't look naked, right?

Am I just not used to so much exposed flesh in practice? Do I not have the right body for it? All questions yet to be answered. Still, there is so much skin on skin friction. And if I was sweating a lot, I imagine I'd feel like I'd turned into a slimy salamander.

Not too tight not too loose--I guess that for me, even when picking practice clothing, the middle path also applies.

Oh, and I didn't use my mat. I do that once in a while.

--"Three Gunas" post from last year: http://mysoremusings.blogspot.com/2007/07/yoga-clothing-and-3-gunas.html

Hump day and related poses/Primary Series is like a treadmill set at "hills"

Thinking back to yesterday's practice and my body caught in a thick downpour of sweat, I try to recall what it was like to be a "beginner". I think it felt (physically) a lot like it feels right now. Some days I leave practice feeling like I took a nice nap or a warm shower; on other days, I feel like I fell off my bike, wrestled a bear, picked up a couch, or came down with the flu. When I was slowly working my way through primary, I remember feeling so tired that I couldn't even fathom coming in to practice -- the idea of rolling out my mat was already like practicing full primary. I fell on my face a lot. I did a lot of pep talks. My breathing was irregular. My bandhas were transient tenants. Overall, it was like visiting a country where I have never been, a language I could not speak, food I have never seen, with only one sort of friend to show me around -- sometimes.

Slowly, I learned how to pace myself, how to smooth out the kinks. I worked up the courage to challenge myself to do a bit more than just show up (which is already like 80% of the practice for a college student). Things started to make sense and integrate into my body and mind. But even as the storm began to pass, even as I began to converse with the locals (in horrible grammar and accent, of course), I had certain "mantras" going through my mind. During the Sun Salutes at the beginning, it was "Crap! Three more, one more, etc." After that hill was climbed, it was "Here it comes--utthita hasta--here it comes!" And could I time it perfectly so someone will hold my leg? After that, I was coasting, arms spread to the sides, sea breeze in my face -- until I realized that navasana was only a few poses away. Then it became an effort to slow down my breathing and enjoy the forward bends (five breaths is never enough).

Navasana always comes, regardless of how much one tries to avoid it. Bent legs, sweating, wrinkled and pained expressions abound. And then bhujapidasana, kurmasana, with relief finally coming in garbha pindasana. From there again, it is coasting until back bending, sirsasana, and of course, uthplutih.

I was always fascinated by this pacing in primary series, how it is not a steady incline or decline, but a series of "highs" and "lows" punctuated by the "really hard shit" in the middle (navasana, bhujapidasana, kurmasana, and to some extent garbha pindasana). Now when I mean "hard", I mean that these postures demand a combination of strength and flexibility, and one's ability to "perform" them after doing a lot of things that take a lot of effort and also doing them every day, consistently. Yes, there are many challenging moments in the first series, but this cluster of poses can either make or break you, they take no prisoners, there is no faking it, you either have it or you don't. The thing is, you might peek your head up over these "hump poses" that split primary in two for a moment and see what asanas follow and think "I can do those! Those are easy! Why can't I just to them?" This is the magical moment where you either push through and figure it out, give up, or stay where you are for a long time.

I am finding that second series is much like this. Once I was used to primary and became "proficient", or whatever, the sweating stopped. The poses of second series which I began to practice were fun. I left practice every day energized and feeling like I could do even more. It was sweet while it lasted. Soon enough I came to realize that there were "hump poses" in second series as well--tittibhasana, pincha mayurasana, karandavasana, mayurasana, nakrasana. Although I am practicing up until mayurasana, I know nakrasana will take some mental strength, but over this fence, the grass looks fairly green. I wonder if eventually it will feel how primary feels now: like an old friend. That will be the day. For now, I am covered in sweat, slowly peddling up a mountain.

What I have been up to

All done!

Living Mysore July Magazine

Monday

Neck deep in the July issue of Living Mysore Magazine.

The waves hit me too hard on Saturday and I'm still pink.  Or maybe it was the sun, but who wants to admit that?

Life's little lessons

Why on earth would I care whether or not my students waited for my count before moving into upward dog from chaturanga?  

I ponder this question in the fallout of the collision between the "yoga class world" and the "real world".  

You see, substitute teaching is the worst, regardless of what subject you teach.  When I explain my distaste to a doe-eyed and bushy-tailed potential sympathizer, I am always met with confusion.  I know, I know, it's just yoga.  How bad can it be?  You tell people what to do, they listen because they want to learn what you are teaching and then we all have a nice savasana and herbal tea at the end.  I admit, some days are like this.  And some days, they really aren't.

Without exhausting the subject, let's just say that substitute teaching a led ashtanga class can be a nightmare.  The worst scenario?  A one-hour lunch hour class through navasana (half primary).  Why?  The class is scheduled at this time to cater to people who work, meaning that people are in "go mode" and you can expect random drop-ins from people with little to no experience with yoga, and definitely not ashtanga.

But it is a "led" class so isn't that better than the self-led "Mysore"?  Wouldn't that be good for beginners to hear what to do?  Maybe in a perfect world.  But this is a class I'm subbing which means that regulars will expect to be led through navasana and the newbies will have no extraneous explanations of what they are supposed to do.  Good luck.

Now remember again that I am subbing, so already the students are suspicious.  Add onto that the fact that I don't fuck around.  Chatvari means chatvari.  And now we are back to the original question of why do I care and why does it matter?

This got me thinking of my Japanese sculpture teacher back in art school.  He walked up to Eric, nodded his head in approval, then raised his hand and proceeded to beat the clay bust with a mallet.  He encouraged us all to do the same with our "masterpieces".  "You want to fire this piece of shit?" He asked the girl he fondly referred to as "Miss Piggy".  Yes, he was mean.  Yes, he was right.  

Beginners are the best students.  They are totally receptive to what you have to say.  You can instantly see the changes in body and mind as they come in quick bursts of intelligence.  They are humble.  They still can laugh.

Advanced students are the best students.  They are totally receptive to what you have to say.  You can see them as they work to integrate the verbal and physical cues into their practice with the intelligence that comes with experience.  They are humble.  They remember to laugh.

It is everyone in between who is hit or miss.  They are like rebellious teenagers who know everything and will never die.  They refuse to slow down for the beginners, they insist on spying and trying what the advanced students are up to, and they firmly believe that everyone in class should have the exact same pace as their breath.

As a teacher, this means a whole lot of pulling the breaks, holding back, curfews, and the moment where you have to decide if it is worth it.  

Option 1:  Just don't look.  Convenient, less exhausting, but hard to do if you care.

Option 2:  Calling them on it.  But you have to be willing to stand your ground.  Stand your ground?  In a yoga class?  Yep.  Sometimes it means saying to a student that if they aren't here to take the class I'm teaching, they need to leave.

This sucks, feels horrible, turns my face pink, makes my ears steam, and generally is not fun.  But--it is these students who usually come back.  Afterwards, I'm exhausted and upset, they are coming up to me saying "great class!"  

Sometimes when I go in to teach class, it feels like we have stepped into an alternate universe and there are no longer people, just samskaras flying around.  Ultimately this is my practice too and the most difficult students and classes are the best teachers. 

I give in

I usually cave about once per year and go along with something which falls under the "chain letter" category.  This might be number 2.  Oh well.

I was tagged to participate in this internet questionnaire.

What were you doing five years ago?

I was a "space nurse" for a gaudy art installation--yuck.  I was also reading in the park.  

What are five things (in no particular order) on your to-do list for today?

Teach yoga class.

Rest.

Chores.

Errands.

Catch up with friends.

What are five snacks you enjoy?

Apples with peanut butter.

Fruit.

Ginger candies.

Sun dried tomatoes.

Protein smoothies.

What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire?

Not worry about not having money...maybe.

Pay off all debts of family and self/take care of family and close friends.

Spend time doing volunteer work.

Donate to a cause I am passionate about.

Not plan a thing.

What are five of your bad habits?

No one wants to know!

What are five places you have lived?

New Mexico

New York 

Florida

The road

What are five jobs that you've had?

Receptionist
Manager

Teacher

Space nurse

Tour guide

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.

Practice when sick: before and after

Before:

I got a full night's rest, did the deed, took a shower, maybe some neti, definitely some chywanaprash even though it doesn't taste so good anymore now that I'm not accustomed to being immersed in Indian flavors.  All this before heading out to practice.  I'm feeling optimistic, but sore, fatigued, tired, and heavy.  Got to keep practice light, easy, and slow today (which is what I tell myself everyday).  Plus it looks like rain.  All this makes me feel like I'm going to be a soggy wet napkin on the floor trying to fold into origami...

After:

Two steps out the front door and I realized that I had remembered the neti (I did it while on the phone with Rachel...it takes a lot of skill not to get the phone wet) but had forgotten the chywanaprash.  Was I sleeping on my walk/subway ride/walk to the shala?  I don't remember putting one foot in front of the other.  I do remember how hot it was and how humid it felt just standing outside the classroom.   Armed with a wad of toilet paper, I stepped in, rolled out my mat, informed Guy I was still a little sick "you can just to primary" he saw my face "but I guess you did come all this way..."  exactly.  It would be slow, but it would be my practice. 

Every move was carefully placed and fragile.  I had a consistent feeling that this time I might break.  I fell into the breathing which, although deep and musical, was uncomfortable at the top of the inhale.  I could feel the tingle of being uncomfortable up my chest, collarbones, neck, until it rested and broke where my gums met my bottom front teeth.  Weird.  My low back ached.  

I didn't have to modify much.  Perhaps the jumps weren't as jumpy or floaty as when I'm feeling 100%, but they were proportional to what I had in me today.  I spent much less time than usual in finishing postures and laid down cringing with a slight headache and head rush by the end.  I rolled up my mat and picked up that now soaked wad of toilet paper and remembered that original prediction.  Yes, I didn't feel much different than the soggy toilet paper in my hand, but I did make some origami.  My body does feels much better now than before.  

Sick! -- The Summer Solstice

This was probably the reason for Friday's awkward practice and rough nap. I'm miserably sick. I couldn't really sleep. Awake/asleep it all feels the same. All I want to do is drive out to the Rockaways and jump into the ocean but the SO is still sleeping and grumbled to me at 6 am that he thought it wasn't the best idea for me. Maybe he is right. The water can be cold out there and the weather won't break 80 today and it is supposed to rain. But I keep going back to that David Williams workshop where he said that when you are sick you should practice a little then jump in the ocean and snort the salt water then go do some more yoga and then do it again. I imagine this hippie jungle man covered in leaved with a stick in his hair running out from the trees into the water and back again. I want that to be me. I want to be sun kissed and tropical with the taste and smell of salt water on my skin with sand collecting in the cuticles of my toenails.

Before the suffering began, yesterday I found myself marking the summer solstice in Times Square with hundreds of other people who were marveling at the notion of being fully reclined in the middle of the madness. I was one of the people walking through the downward dogs trying to explain to this beginner or that the subtleties of knees chest chin or how to straighten the leg in trikonasana. For a few minutes as I stood watching the class, the taxis, the lights, the people, the buildings, the chaos, I felt that warm little feeling that one gets when one connects with how very special this city can be. And I got a shwag bag.

photo link

Friday nap rant

I did it.  After asking myself "okay, what next?", writing out a short to-do list for the afternoon (laundry, grocery, clean dishes, wash hair, email so and so), I pulled the sheets over my head and took a sweet afternoon nap.  That groggy, delicious, fermenting kind of nap. The kind where I dream that I am dreaming and wake up in the dream and push caramels the consistency of Indonesian ginger candies into my teeth.  The kind where my eyes are covered in gravel and I wake up feeling sugary and in need of a shower and washed hair.  I roll (literally) off and down from the bed, pull my hair back, and shuffle to the kitchen to reflect on the day and eat two Indonesian ginger candies.  I don't push them into my teeth.

Practice.  I didn't notice this before, but today, the Manduka was getting in my way.  On Primary days I don't use the rug and so my skin pulled every time it made contact.  In places where I might have slid (gracefully of course), or melted, instead I clung and sometimes suddenly jerked when the skin was let loose and I was taken off guard.  In Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana, my leg wobbled as my foot mushed around the spongey surface.  I felt achy and tight.  Some days are like that.

Heard on the news of a gaggle of teenage girls have formed a pact to get pregnant.  This followed a segment on whether Americans would prefer to spend what little money they have on groceries or gas.  There was also a feature on the dismal possibilities for joining the working world, the staggering number of foreclosures (sell now and take WHATEVER price someone will give you), the obesity epidemic, and the increase of food cost/decrease in food package size.  And there's global warming.  Oh yeah, I almost forgot--we're at war.  The dollar is dropping. Our health care system is shit (it really isn't "ours", I suppose it is better to say those who have and those who have not?).  There's an election coming up (yes I'll vote Obama--the lesser of two evils--neither candidate is that great but please DO NOT vote for McCain, thanks).  And if one was so inclined to pay attention, there are still starving children in third world countries, AIDS, natural disasters, and general injustices for all.  

Maybe getting knocked up isn't such a bad idea.  You know what you'll be doing for the rest of your life, in fact, you have a very clear projection of the next 60 years or so (if one is to assume you are 15 years old and people die around age 77.2), based on the ebb and flow of your child's life and the fact that your whole existence will now be in service to it.  You don't have to worry about your social life because you won't really have the teenage stereotype, college? yeah maybe, you can definitely count on plenty of menial, low-paying jobs (without a college degree)--wait no, you'll probably get a job that doesn't pay well even with a degree--, a pile of bills and nothing else to worry about except keeping you nose to the grindstone and keeping your kids fed.  Maybe you'll be able to make your way out of the child fall-out when they are in their twenties, and the world will have sorted itself out by then.  

Anyway, at least it is a guarantee of the future.  And actually, it is a natural function of the human body... Hmm.  That's probably enough for today. 

Mr. Sandman

I woke up, looked around, realized I was lying on my mat, hoped that I hadn't said anything out loud, and remembered that old saying about savasana.  I suppose technically, it is "resting", but still, it isn't "sleeping".  If you are falling asleep during this time of repose, you need to get more sleep.  

I don't know how other people do it.  Whoopi Goldberg, on the View yesterday, mentioned how she gets something like 4 hours of sleep per night.  And with yoga, aren't you supposed to slowly be able to whittle your way to 3 hours?  

I wonder what time Sharath goes to bed.  If I remember correctly, I heard somewhere that he and Guruji would get up at 2 and have coffee and practice before teaching.  I wonder what the opinion is on naps?  Is there a siesta in India?  I know I certainly got into the habit, waking up at 3:30am at all.  But for some reason, it just doesn't fit into my lifestyle on the eastern seaboard.

I am certainly looking forward to the extra hour tomorrow morning and a primary practice.  My body feels so tired right now.  Although, I've noticed that practice has been opening up in some interesting ways ever since my last practice audit.  I noticed it the most in kapotasana. My torso felt so much more round than before.  

I think I'm noticing that when I am tired, I eat more because somewhere I am convinced that it  gives me the energy I need to get through the day.  Why can't I just convince myself to take a nap?

What to pack--the list starts here

What I think I'll need, plan to pack, and possibly throw out on my upcoming trip to Mysore. Suggestions requested!

Some things are hard to find in India, some things one just does not want to go out and buy, some things are cheaper in India, some things I will eventually wean myself of...

I intend this to be a "living" list, so it will be updated regularly and will become more specific.

Some things I won't be packing but I think that most people will want to.

Some things I will pack but won't list here.

The List

Food/supplements/medicine

-Grapefruit seed extract, wormwood, charcoal These are all for preventing/treating nasty belly issues. Cannot find these there.
-Triphala, laxative For the constipated traveler. Can find these there.

-Vitamins I didn't see them but I'm sure they are available. People recommend taking probiotics. But you could also just eat curd unless you're vegan of course.

-Green veg supplements Many feel they aren't eating enough greens.

Clothing

-Footwear:

Last year I took my Chacos but even as they are open toed, I still with I had brought flip flops as one is always taking ones shoes off an on.
Flip flops But how many pairs? Is one enough? What if--

Crocs From Anonymous

-Clothing to be copied by tailor

-Yoga clothes

Toiletries

toothbrush, hairbrush, hairdryer, hair ties, razors, floss, organic tampons, etc.

Mosquito Repellent (from anonymous) Ah, this is a good point.  I didn't bring any with me and ended up getting some neem oil recommended by the ayurvdeic doctor.  It stunk and I don't hink it really worked.  I'm not sure if you can find it in the stores.  BUt I don know that you are going to have a hard time finding that perfect cruelty free eco friendly brand that you like.  Same for sunscreen.  Most sunscreens that I found in India had skin whitener in them...

Entertainment

music player, cell phone, computer, books, magazines, unfinished projects, camera

Important/logistics

identification

bank documents, number, important info

addresses, phone numbers

Nose dive

One! two! three--pincha--four.

five! six--karan--floor!

Ah karandavasana.  The many lessons learned.  With this practice, when we realize that we "are", then we realize that we have to start from the beginning.  And then we wake up again and realize that we "are" and that we have to start from the beginning.  

I'm in karandavasana (or is it "on" or "doing" or "being" or "trying"?).  No, go back.

I've kicked up to pincha mayurasana.  I realize that I am here I am awake I am breathing that I could choose to give up and fall or choose to ride the wave of where I am.  I realize I am breathing.  I am having an out-of-body-experience inside my body.  But it isn't my head, it it somewhere higher--my thighs perhaps?  I fold one leg, I fold the other.  (It feels more like stitching to me.)  I squeeze them tighter.  I lean my chest forward and PLOP! I've landed for a split second on my upper arms before falling on my butt.  This was the third attempt.  The others were like cliff diving (minus the diving and more like a canon ball but less like a belly flop with arms flailing which is an improvement).  I try one more time and it is back to the diving but at least I had that moment of clarity where time stops and someone whispers the clue and my body starts to do what it must have been born to do.

Then Guy comes over.  I triumphantly cross on my own.  I begin to lower down confident in my new insight on how I will figure out this puzzle.  Guy's confidence must have matched my own because--did he notice that I landed on my nose?  Finished the rest of the pose without a hitch, but spent a few moments reminiscing of back when he taught me bhujapidasana and the exit vinyasa and all the nose dives it took for me to figure that one out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyU3Gs6zTUQ
 

You wake up and realize the mattress you are sleeping on is in the middle of a lake.  You paddle back to the shore.

Practice framing the moondays is always a mix of haphazard experiences.  I'm really light, I'm really heavy.  I'm really strong, I'm really weak.  I lose my balance, I'm spot on.  Happy for the day off.

Okay, so there have been quite a few requests for a part 2 in the "how the @#%! do you...?" series (jump back).  I'm thinking about it...

If you haven't joined the livingmysore magazine google group to receive notices of when we have a new mag out, be sure to do so here.  Also, we are collecting submissions for the July issue...  

Let a smile be your umbrella, cherry pie tastes good, and other Twin Peaks moments

Neck deep in a Twin Peaks "Gold Edition" Marathon.  Birthdays, "Hallmark" holidays, and abnormally high weather, practice and Twin Peaks punctuate the days.  About six weeks until Mysore.  Training my replacements, reading ads to replace me, talk of my life without me.  Taking a deep breath before making that "must do, seriously" list.  

But first, the Log Lady:

  

The heart...

It is a physical organ we all know.

But how much more an emotional organ?

This we also know.

Love--like blood--flows from the heart.

Are love and blood related?

Does a heart pump blood as it pumps love?

Is love the blood of the universe?