Whew! I'm here, albeit a bit discombobulated. The first flight left Gainesville on Friday Feb. 8 at 1:30 and I arrived at my hotel/apartment at about 9:30 am Sunday morning Mysore time.
Wifi is down today at the place I'm staying, so I wandered around the area until I found someone who looked like an Ashtangi and asked to be pointed in the direction of an internet cafe...using a very slooow computer now, but feeling connected to the world again!
A few random first impressions: the toll just on the road to Mysore just outside the airport says "Happy Traveling" (or something similar...should have written it down) instead of the boring "Paid"
Once the sun started to come up on the drive from the Bangalore airport to Mysore I realized that what looked like an orange plastic lobster dangling from the driver's rearview mirror was actually an orange plastic Hanuman (the monkey god)...that made so much more sense than the lobster.
Later this afternoon, I go to register at the shala. First practice should be tomorrow morning assuming I've done everything I'm supposed as far as registration goes.
More to come...hoping for a good night's sleep...it's 10 and a half hours ahead of Gainesville time here...
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Building Heat
You know how you can order your food medium-hot, take a few bites, and think, "this isn't that hot". Maybe it's Indian food, or Thai food, or Jamaican food. And then it starts to creep up a bit. With a few more bites, the heat builds on itself. And you think, "actually, this is pretty spicy, but it's good". And you finish your meal and then think, "that was really good. It was spicy!...and I think I'll just have a glass of milk to cool things down a little.
That's spending a week practicing with my teacher doing most of second.
Doing primary on my own on day 6 of that week is the glass of milk.
That's spending a week practicing with my teacher doing most of second.
Doing primary on my own on day 6 of that week is the glass of milk.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Curiouser and Curiouser...
Curiouser and curiouser...didn't sleep...gave up the effort at 4:30. I couldn't face second series; did primary. I couldn't face the opening up and wanted a security blanket. When nothing else can quiet the mental hamster wheel and sooth the body, primary can. Its gentle stretches down the hips, free anger and self-pity to dissolve. Where does jealousy live in the body?
It still astonishes me when I look in from the outside, that something that used to waste me fully, the primary series, now soothes. The pose within that series that took the most time to settle in my body and brain, supta kurmasana, now feels like pouring cold water on an over-heated nervous system. Steam still results, but nerves cool down.
When I head to Mysore in February, it will be the first time in more than 7 years, that I will experience practicing only primary, with no second as my daily practice. This is my first trip and I have no expectations of practicing anything else. I am curious what that will feel like. The intermediate sequence has asked that I open, and then open, and then open again. Finally, it's starting to feel like that opening might be tethered to some kind of central core. More stability would still be most welcome. Who wouldn't want it to be just a little bit harder to get knocked off their center. I'm wondering if 4 weeks of primary series practice will provide some needed grounding, or if India itself and the experience of Mysore will provide the nerve-cleansing aspect despite moving through a daily sequence of primary poses.
It still astonishes me when I look in from the outside, that something that used to waste me fully, the primary series, now soothes. The pose within that series that took the most time to settle in my body and brain, supta kurmasana, now feels like pouring cold water on an over-heated nervous system. Steam still results, but nerves cool down.
When I head to Mysore in February, it will be the first time in more than 7 years, that I will experience practicing only primary, with no second as my daily practice. This is my first trip and I have no expectations of practicing anything else. I am curious what that will feel like. The intermediate sequence has asked that I open, and then open, and then open again. Finally, it's starting to feel like that opening might be tethered to some kind of central core. More stability would still be most welcome. Who wouldn't want it to be just a little bit harder to get knocked off their center. I'm wondering if 4 weeks of primary series practice will provide some needed grounding, or if India itself and the experience of Mysore will provide the nerve-cleansing aspect despite moving through a daily sequence of primary poses.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Ebbs and Flows
Amid the ebbs and flows of a year, it's sometimes nice to step back and assess. This has been a year of deep change for me; both practice and life have shifted. Practice works to peel back the layers of story one by one. I've had the feeling lately, that practice has really gotten it's hooks in this year and took a couple layers off all in one go. The result is more vulnerability, honesty, and curiosity. How many more layers? How deep do the stories go?
There is maybe a natural feeling of ending and beginning as the days get shorter. Culturally, we're surrounded by reminders that our calender year is ending soon. It fascinates me to see the variety of expressions of how we meet this season.
I remember a few years back when the stand-up comic and
writer, Julia Sweeney wrote a fake Christmas letter. And yet, while I cried with laughter at the
absurdity of the fake family story unfolding, as Julia read the “letter” aloud,
I was struck somewhere deep by how much more real it sounded than most of the
annual Christmas letters I receive or the annual Christmas letter that I write.
So, although, I will still write a tally of my family's here and there of the year and send it out to the usual list, I have also written a second letter, with perhaps a bit more baring of softness, a bit more soul, and a little less story....though I could still pull out those photos of our family vacation...
Dear Friends and Family,
I could say that I hope you’re all well and I
do, but what does that mean. We all
define wellness so differently. As for
me, I’m still catching my breath. It’s
been a year. I’ve been up and down so many
times I’ve lost track now of which is which.
Amidst moments of fury, I found a
current of strength that I never knew existed.
I am myself and enough, just as I am.
What a thing to know fully and viscerally! So where is the good or bad?
Amidst moments of angst, I found the love of true friends. The greatest gift is human connection without
platitudes or posturing, a quiet understanding of the fallibility of people and
a constant running current of support.
It is in the raw, unguarded moments that bonds are forged. By acknowledging my own mistakes and
unawareness, my heart has been stretched in a way that makes so much more room
for compassion. We each have our own
sharp points and rough spots. In honest
recognition of our own pains and strengths, there is no room left to judge where
others sit. We sit where we are.
So, do I wish you a happy new
year then? Perhaps. It’s hard to say what “happy” is. Maybe the best thing to say
is that, in the coming new year, I wish you strength and the love of good
friends, while in the eye of the storm.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
India Bound
It's been radio silence on the blog for a bit... I've been writing quite a lot actually, just not here, and not about yoga. Although really, it's all about yoga as I can no longer separate "the yoga" from "the anything else". ...so really it's just that the writing has stayed in the notebook, perhaps percolating for later public consumption.
Amidst the writing and the working has been some future schedule navigation. I'm in a perpetual process of evolving my time to be spent in increasing bouts on things that I find nourishing and in decreasing blocks on things that I don't.
In that vein, I'm headed to Mysore this spring. I have confirmation from the shala, plane ticket purchased, visa in hand, and have booked a place to stay. First practice, barring any flight delays, is Feb. 11. I'm there through March 10. If our Mysore travels will overlap at some point, please get in touch.
The trip has been several years in the making and the fact that the planning has finally gotten this far, still seems unreal. I've been doing this practice for awhile now, nearly 12 years. Although I feel a certain amount of trepidation, knowing that discomfort is always a part of anything meaningful, I still feel there is nothing more exciting than the thought of spending a month having my practice shaken down to the fundamentals, so that I might find out what I'm really standing on.
Amidst the writing and the working has been some future schedule navigation. I'm in a perpetual process of evolving my time to be spent in increasing bouts on things that I find nourishing and in decreasing blocks on things that I don't.
In that vein, I'm headed to Mysore this spring. I have confirmation from the shala, plane ticket purchased, visa in hand, and have booked a place to stay. First practice, barring any flight delays, is Feb. 11. I'm there through March 10. If our Mysore travels will overlap at some point, please get in touch.
The trip has been several years in the making and the fact that the planning has finally gotten this far, still seems unreal. I've been doing this practice for awhile now, nearly 12 years. Although I feel a certain amount of trepidation, knowing that discomfort is always a part of anything meaningful, I still feel there is nothing more exciting than the thought of spending a month having my practice shaken down to the fundamentals, so that I might find out what I'm really standing on.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Digging and Sifting
My internal calendar runs on the academic year. I was born and grew up in a "college town" to a high school teacher and a college professor-turned administrator. As far as I'm concerned, the year begins in late August and ends in early May. June and July don't really belong to the year. They are part of the fluid time, where schedules are altered and adjustments made for summer...never mind that in the current college town that I call home, summer temperatures begin in March... If the year were a breath, June and July would the retention, the pause.
I'm gratefully soaking up the city-wide energy that comes with the students as they return for a new year. I'm ready for a new year and for the boost in energy.
The past year has been one with which I'm sure I will continue to mark time. There are many years that bleed together. You can think of an event that occurred and think, "now what year was that...what that 3 years ago or 4?". And the answer doesn't really matter as the years themselves passed without ever being defined. They were. They happened. They've passed. There are other years that serve to mark time in some way. There are the years I graduated from high school, or college, or grad school and the year I got married. I'm certain this past year will have etched it's mark, when I have finally been able to move past it.
Much of this past year has been a process of trying to parse out sensation from feeling. Where does actual sensation end and where does feeling complete with story begin? Sensation can pass through, if I manage not to grab on, morph it into feeling, and tell myself a story about it.
I've spent the spring and the fluid time sifting sensation from feeling. They sift like soil samples through a stack of sieves. The actual, unadulterated sensations sift to the very bottom, through the smallest holes. They are not identifiable or nameable as anything in particular. They're left like fine dust at the bottom and can be tossed up into the air where they get caught on currents and possibly dissolve completely. The feelings with their stories get stuck on the top sieve. Like roots and rocks, they seem solid. They seem to have meaning, names.
The lesson from the spring and from the fluid time? Feelings are unreliable as measures of the truth. Stories are unreliable. The mind is a changeling and likes constant entertainment. It can create complexity, and prana draining drama out of dust, sensation.
I have been steadily digging a deeper and deeper hole, sifting as I go. The lesson from the spring and from the fluid time? A hole is not enough. I'm digging a well.
"The entire world is fabrication of thought. Play of mind is only created by thought. By transcending the mind which is composed of constructed thought, definitely peace will be attained, O Rama!”
-Hatha Yoga Pradipika 4:58
I'm gratefully soaking up the city-wide energy that comes with the students as they return for a new year. I'm ready for a new year and for the boost in energy.
The past year has been one with which I'm sure I will continue to mark time. There are many years that bleed together. You can think of an event that occurred and think, "now what year was that...what that 3 years ago or 4?". And the answer doesn't really matter as the years themselves passed without ever being defined. They were. They happened. They've passed. There are other years that serve to mark time in some way. There are the years I graduated from high school, or college, or grad school and the year I got married. I'm certain this past year will have etched it's mark, when I have finally been able to move past it.
Much of this past year has been a process of trying to parse out sensation from feeling. Where does actual sensation end and where does feeling complete with story begin? Sensation can pass through, if I manage not to grab on, morph it into feeling, and tell myself a story about it.
I've spent the spring and the fluid time sifting sensation from feeling. They sift like soil samples through a stack of sieves. The actual, unadulterated sensations sift to the very bottom, through the smallest holes. They are not identifiable or nameable as anything in particular. They're left like fine dust at the bottom and can be tossed up into the air where they get caught on currents and possibly dissolve completely. The feelings with their stories get stuck on the top sieve. Like roots and rocks, they seem solid. They seem to have meaning, names.
The lesson from the spring and from the fluid time? Feelings are unreliable as measures of the truth. Stories are unreliable. The mind is a changeling and likes constant entertainment. It can create complexity, and prana draining drama out of dust, sensation.
I have been steadily digging a deeper and deeper hole, sifting as I go. The lesson from the spring and from the fluid time? A hole is not enough. I'm digging a well.
"The entire world is fabrication of thought. Play of mind is only created by thought. By transcending the mind which is composed of constructed thought, definitely peace will be attained, O Rama!”
-Hatha Yoga Pradipika 4:58
Monday, July 9, 2012
Tantrums and Refueling
I love that Jill Manning refers to her time practicing with her teachers as "refueling". My time is coming...my teacher arrives in just a few more weeks.
This has been a longish span of time (6 months or so this time) to be on my own for practice. There is the occasional morning where I'm approaching a tantrum *I-want-my-teacher-now!*
Lone practicing has gotten easier with time and I have found a lot of sweetness in the quiet, early mornings, but it is definitely time for a refueling!
In the meantime, a summer reading of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika for some 1% theory.
Conversation is in "notes" on this page.
Some of my favorite bits from the Asana chapter:
I like the image described in the commentary of asana moving prana to avoid stagnation. As someone who has been working at wetland sites in Florida over the past few years, stagnant water is something very familiar:
“When you practice asana, steadiness develops. Prana moves freely, and there is less chance of disease occurring. Just as stagnant water is the breeding ground for all sorts of creatures, when prana stagnates anywhere in the body, conditions are perfect for bacteria to flourish; prana should move like swift flowing water.”
I especially liked this from the commentary for the translation that I'm reading:
"Mind is not static; it is a vibrating mass of conscious energy and is moulded into whatever shape you give it. When a person lives for material pleasure, the mind becomes absorbed in the material reality. If it is absorbed in negative and debauched things, then it becomes that way. If it is absorbed in the subtler experiences then it can come closer to the atma. This is a process which involves the total restructuring of the entire organism right down to the minutest cell.”
This has been a longish span of time (6 months or so this time) to be on my own for practice. There is the occasional morning where I'm approaching a tantrum *I-want-my-teacher-now!*
Lone practicing has gotten easier with time and I have found a lot of sweetness in the quiet, early mornings, but it is definitely time for a refueling!
In the meantime, a summer reading of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika for some 1% theory.
Conversation is in "notes" on this page.
Some of my favorite bits from the Asana chapter:
I like the image described in the commentary of asana moving prana to avoid stagnation. As someone who has been working at wetland sites in Florida over the past few years, stagnant water is something very familiar:
“When you practice asana, steadiness develops. Prana moves freely, and there is less chance of disease occurring. Just as stagnant water is the breeding ground for all sorts of creatures, when prana stagnates anywhere in the body, conditions are perfect for bacteria to flourish; prana should move like swift flowing water.”
I especially liked this from the commentary for the translation that I'm reading:
"Mind is not static; it is a vibrating mass of conscious energy and is moulded into whatever shape you give it. When a person lives for material pleasure, the mind becomes absorbed in the material reality. If it is absorbed in negative and debauched things, then it becomes that way. If it is absorbed in the subtler experiences then it can come closer to the atma. This is a process which involves the total restructuring of the entire organism right down to the minutest cell.”
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