"Resistance is useless!"
-The Vogons
Wrapping up a series of thoughts on why I practice and on the gratitude I feel for all that surrounds the practice...
Similes and metaphors abound as we try to describe how and why the practice works. My current experience in practice is shining some light on my physical body as a manifestation of all that takes place in the mental and emotional body.
With each day that we wake up and live our lives, we create patterns, habits, and tendencies. They show up physically even when we are unaware of them or choose to be unaware of them.
Sharath has been quoted quite a bit recently about the importance of starting a yoga practice with asana....and just maybe I am finally starting to understand viscerally what that is all about.
Practice, done with raw honesty, makes us aware.
And then: we have a choice. Change the patterns, habits and the tendencies or face the very physical consequences.
Although practice does have a way of bringing things out and up at a rate that we are capable of working with them, it is still often deeply uncomfortable. I'm finding that a mental and emotional tug-of-war is being reflected physically, as if practice itself is echoing Tim Miller, "Avoidance is not the answer."
I can twist the emotional and mental thoughts that arise to mean anything I'd like. I can create stories that allow complete avoidance of all that arises mentally.
But physically, I can't get away.
That the yoga practice starts with the physical to address everything else is genius. It makes perfect sense.
And for that, I am painfully grateful.
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Practice
Whew! Where did a week go???
For the past few weeks, I've been focusing on all that I am grateful for within and surrounding the Ashtanga practice. It's interesting to me that I'm in the midst of a longish stretch of both physical and mental discomfort in practice and yet I'm at the same time more grateful than ever that it is there.
During the actual asana practice I feel like I'm alternating between a piece of stiff taffy being stretched from both ends that just won't give and a porcupine with all quills out and on guard. Right about the time for an attempt at kapotasana, I feel like I'm choking. From the outside, it sounds like the breath is light and even. From the inside, it feels like I've swallowed an apple whole and it's stuck.
...and yet I wouldn't trade any of that for anything. Amidst all the tugging and self-resistance is emerging a clearer picture of what exists below the surface. I can choose to leave all the "stuff" there, hidden underwater. I can stuff in down farther, gloss it over, or paint it a different color, but it is still there. Likewise, I can find some activity to dull the discomfort of what is (food, drink or internet anyone?!), but that doesn't change it.
Tim Feldman had a great article on Elephant Journal recently that very articulately discussed the perception that a yoga practice should somehow always leave you "happy".
Tim has this to say: "Yoga aims at bringing light towards what really is and to find the courage to see clearly and the peace to accept whatever arises without the necessity to remove or change it. If grief is there, if anger is there or if pride is there, our yoga practice is sure to slowly strip away the layers of subconscious veils in a timely fashion, appropriate to what we can handle. Methodically, like a surgeon’s scalpel we uncover years of psychological armor, escapism and denial and by doing so we slowly reclaim a life beyond it all. Even though we rarely like to admit it, we are all the kind of person who runs away from our fears, denies our anger and blocks out our selfishness only to justify the whole story to your own advantage."
Mental and physical ease in asana practice come and go. They change with the seasons and they change as life changes.
I might add to what Tim explored in his article. For sure the comings and goings of discomfort as layers are peeled back is a normal part of an honest practice....it may also be one of the only places I will not be judged for it. There is little space among work, home, and other life interactions for staying with the "unpleasant" emotions. We are encouraged to change them, fix them as they make everyone else uncomfortable too...
For brief moments in practice lately, I've a had a pause where I remembered at that moment, I didn't need to fix anything, I could just be there. That time was dedicated to just being there. It was in those moments where the pressure to "fix it" lifted, that there was quiet and ease. For that and for all that practice brings up, I am grateful.
For the past few weeks, I've been focusing on all that I am grateful for within and surrounding the Ashtanga practice. It's interesting to me that I'm in the midst of a longish stretch of both physical and mental discomfort in practice and yet I'm at the same time more grateful than ever that it is there.
During the actual asana practice I feel like I'm alternating between a piece of stiff taffy being stretched from both ends that just won't give and a porcupine with all quills out and on guard. Right about the time for an attempt at kapotasana, I feel like I'm choking. From the outside, it sounds like the breath is light and even. From the inside, it feels like I've swallowed an apple whole and it's stuck.
...and yet I wouldn't trade any of that for anything. Amidst all the tugging and self-resistance is emerging a clearer picture of what exists below the surface. I can choose to leave all the "stuff" there, hidden underwater. I can stuff in down farther, gloss it over, or paint it a different color, but it is still there. Likewise, I can find some activity to dull the discomfort of what is (food, drink or internet anyone?!), but that doesn't change it.
Tim Feldman had a great article on Elephant Journal recently that very articulately discussed the perception that a yoga practice should somehow always leave you "happy".
Tim has this to say: "Yoga aims at bringing light towards what really is and to find the courage to see clearly and the peace to accept whatever arises without the necessity to remove or change it. If grief is there, if anger is there or if pride is there, our yoga practice is sure to slowly strip away the layers of subconscious veils in a timely fashion, appropriate to what we can handle. Methodically, like a surgeon’s scalpel we uncover years of psychological armor, escapism and denial and by doing so we slowly reclaim a life beyond it all. Even though we rarely like to admit it, we are all the kind of person who runs away from our fears, denies our anger and blocks out our selfishness only to justify the whole story to your own advantage."
Mental and physical ease in asana practice come and go. They change with the seasons and they change as life changes.
I might add to what Tim explored in his article. For sure the comings and goings of discomfort as layers are peeled back is a normal part of an honest practice....it may also be one of the only places I will not be judged for it. There is little space among work, home, and other life interactions for staying with the "unpleasant" emotions. We are encouraged to change them, fix them as they make everyone else uncomfortable too...
For brief moments in practice lately, I've a had a pause where I remembered at that moment, I didn't need to fix anything, I could just be there. That time was dedicated to just being there. It was in those moments where the pressure to "fix it" lifted, that there was quiet and ease. For that and for all that practice brings up, I am grateful.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Sleepwalking...
Ok, show of hands, anyone else sleep-walking through practice this week?
Stating that I am not a fan of the spring time change would definitely be an understatement. I find it downright painful every year and it takes me about 4 weeks to fully adjust...ick.
All the same though, I still love early morning practice. The bonus for starting a bleary, post-time change, early-morning practice, is that I'm too sleepy to think. Instant mental quiet!
One of things I'm most grateful for once I shake off the sleepiness and get started, is the solitude. No one wants anything from me at 5am. :-)
Stating that I am not a fan of the spring time change would definitely be an understatement. I find it downright painful every year and it takes me about 4 weeks to fully adjust...ick.
All the same though, I still love early morning practice. The bonus for starting a bleary, post-time change, early-morning practice, is that I'm too sleepy to think. Instant mental quiet!
One of things I'm most grateful for once I shake off the sleepiness and get started, is the solitude. No one wants anything from me at 5am. :-)
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Gratitude
We never really know what effects the small, and not so small, actions that we take will have.
More than 10 years ago now, I was taking "vinyasa flow" classes at the local yoga studio when one teacher started teaching a once-a-week traditional led Ashtanga primary series class.
I tried the class. It kicked my butt. My life changed forever.
It sounds so melodramatic when we say "this practice changed my life", but anyone of us with a consistent practice knows that it has and did. This practice has a way of reordering our lives and generally for the better. One of my friends recently said "I know this practice will carry me through anything". Yes, it has, and it will.
Fast forward from 10 years back to present time. I moved away from the town where I was first introduced to the Ashtanga practice. I met my teachers. I moved back to the town where I first met my practice. I left the town where my teachers lived. I wanted to explore sharing the practice. I started to teach Mysore classes.
...so here I was back in the town where I was first introduced to this amazing practice and serendipitously, I found the person who first introduced me to this practice, still teaching.
...and from his example I met a true expression of generosity.
He welcomed me into his classes and graciously supported me teaching in this same town as well. I have always felt comfortable enough in his classes to do an honest practice. I have had the wonderful benefits of being absorbed into the Ashtanga community that he is responsible for starting.
This Ashtanga path has kept me energized and honest through many ups and downs. The person responsible for getting me started on this path is taking a break from teaching, after 15 years, so I wanted to write a post to send some waves of gratitude out there for him and for all the teachers that quietly do their thing. They may not make the magazine covers, but they show up, they teach their classes, and they change lives.
Gratitude!
More than 10 years ago now, I was taking "vinyasa flow" classes at the local yoga studio when one teacher started teaching a once-a-week traditional led Ashtanga primary series class.
I tried the class. It kicked my butt. My life changed forever.
It sounds so melodramatic when we say "this practice changed my life", but anyone of us with a consistent practice knows that it has and did. This practice has a way of reordering our lives and generally for the better. One of my friends recently said "I know this practice will carry me through anything". Yes, it has, and it will.
Fast forward from 10 years back to present time. I moved away from the town where I was first introduced to the Ashtanga practice. I met my teachers. I moved back to the town where I first met my practice. I left the town where my teachers lived. I wanted to explore sharing the practice. I started to teach Mysore classes.
...so here I was back in the town where I was first introduced to this amazing practice and serendipitously, I found the person who first introduced me to this practice, still teaching.
...and from his example I met a true expression of generosity.
He welcomed me into his classes and graciously supported me teaching in this same town as well. I have always felt comfortable enough in his classes to do an honest practice. I have had the wonderful benefits of being absorbed into the Ashtanga community that he is responsible for starting.
This Ashtanga path has kept me energized and honest through many ups and downs. The person responsible for getting me started on this path is taking a break from teaching, after 15 years, so I wanted to write a post to send some waves of gratitude out there for him and for all the teachers that quietly do their thing. They may not make the magazine covers, but they show up, they teach their classes, and they change lives.
Gratitude!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Not Thinking
Ahhhh....a nice, quiet, meditative practice. I am so grateful for the mental quiet.
The time I set aside on the mat for "not thinking" is a relief, especially in the times when drama is swirling around. During that time on the mat, I'm not responsible for thinking up great ideas and I'm not responsible for solving complicated problems. My only "job" is to follow the breath. Amongst the busy life-stuff, it's a relief to know that once I step onto the mat, for the next hour or two, all I have to do is breathe.
Nancy Gilgoff said something at the Confluence that stuck with me. She said: (paraphrasing here) when you notice yourself thinking, pick up the pace of the breath until it's occupying your attention again and your mind has stopped getting in the way.
I'm having fun exploring this; I'm playing with mind and breath.
The time I set aside on the mat for "not thinking" is a relief, especially in the times when drama is swirling around. During that time on the mat, I'm not responsible for thinking up great ideas and I'm not responsible for solving complicated problems. My only "job" is to follow the breath. Amongst the busy life-stuff, it's a relief to know that once I step onto the mat, for the next hour or two, all I have to do is breathe.
Nancy Gilgoff said something at the Confluence that stuck with me. She said: (paraphrasing here) when you notice yourself thinking, pick up the pace of the breath until it's occupying your attention again and your mind has stopped getting in the way.
I'm having fun exploring this; I'm playing with mind and breath.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Making Space with Breath
Sunday and Monday slipped by with no post. Suddenly, I've arrived at Tuesday already.
I am grateful that the practice that I do is a breathing practice. I am tired on top of tired today. I managed daily minimum practice: 5A, 5B, lotus...
Everything is tight, body is tight, mind is certainly tight. I suspect mind is actually driving the body at the moment. There is more ease at the times when it happens the other way around.
Despite me, the breath manages to slip in, make just the smallest of spaces between tightly coiled thoughts, and soften the edges.
I am grateful that the practice that I do is a breathing practice. I am tired on top of tired today. I managed daily minimum practice: 5A, 5B, lotus...
Everything is tight, body is tight, mind is certainly tight. I suspect mind is actually driving the body at the moment. There is more ease at the times when it happens the other way around.
Despite me, the breath manages to slip in, make just the smallest of spaces between tightly coiled thoughts, and soften the edges.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Practice as Shovel
Today's gratitude goes out to the digging that the practice does. This weekend is the big weekend for beginning my spring/summer garden, which means I'm spending a good bit of time with my shovel in hand.
...which gets me thinking about practice as a shovel. It's a great tool for digging deep and bringing things to the surface that you had no idea were buried.
...which gets me thinking about practice as a shovel. It's a great tool for digging deep and bringing things to the surface that you had no idea were buried.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Paying Attention
Today, I'm recognizing gratitude for the method of practice.
Pay attention to breath, pose, and driste.
Get distracted.
Become aware of distraction.
Bring attention back to breath, pose, and driste.
Pay attention to breath, pose, and driste.
Get distracted.
Become aware of distraction.
Bring attention back to breath, pose, and driste.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Opening up the Telescope
"What a curious feeling!" said Alice. "I must be shutting up like a telescope!"
-Lewis Carroll from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'
Today's Ode to Practice: stretching. Yes, just the plain old stretching part of yoga. Ask someone who has never done yoga and has no interest in it, what yoga is about and they often answer something like, "Yoga? That's like stretching, right?"
Well, no, not really, but stretching certainly happens during the process of exploring an asana practice.
Right now, I feel like Alice in her telescope analogy. My body shut up completely during "crisis mode" and now that it feels like we're tidying up the mess, I'm looking to figure out how to open up the telescope once again.
Owl once suggested that maybe all the fiddling and fussing on the surface of our practice that we do in the early years of exploring it, protects us from the depth we're not yet ready for. I'm wondering if my intervening tightness is not similar in a way. Possibly the body is wiser than I give it credit for. I can only process so much at one time. Perhaps I store the rest in the body for later assimilation.
-Lewis Carroll from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'
Today's Ode to Practice: stretching. Yes, just the plain old stretching part of yoga. Ask someone who has never done yoga and has no interest in it, what yoga is about and they often answer something like, "Yoga? That's like stretching, right?"
Well, no, not really, but stretching certainly happens during the process of exploring an asana practice.
Right now, I feel like Alice in her telescope analogy. My body shut up completely during "crisis mode" and now that it feels like we're tidying up the mess, I'm looking to figure out how to open up the telescope once again.
Owl once suggested that maybe all the fiddling and fussing on the surface of our practice that we do in the early years of exploring it, protects us from the depth we're not yet ready for. I'm wondering if my intervening tightness is not similar in a way. Possibly the body is wiser than I give it credit for. I can only process so much at one time. Perhaps I store the rest in the body for later assimilation.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Setting Boundaries
Today the aspect of practice that I'm grateful for is the framework set by the practice, the boundaries. Note, I did not say I like them, just that I am grateful for them.
I know that one of the reasons for the depth of understanding that I've gained from this practice is that I made an agreement to work within the boundaries of the practice. The depth comes from the the compromises I make when I bump up against the edges of the framework. It's uncomfortable and I sometimes don't like it, but I am grateful for it.
I think it's important that I've made that choice voluntarily. No one makes me do the poses in order. There are no yoga police to make trouble if I only do the ones I like. If I did whatever I wanted, I would inevitably do what is comfortable, what feels good, and what I'm "good" at. I would not be challenged and I wouldn't grow.
I'm aware now that so much more is possible than I ever imagined....but those possibilities are only there because I submitted to the practice, boundaries included.
Part of that process of submission for me has been learning to set the boundaries intelligently, feeling out where not to be so rigid and where to keep on doing the bits that are uncomfortable, when I'd rather not. This is a process for a lifetime and I expect it to keep evolving as long as I keep practicing.
I know that one of the reasons for the depth of understanding that I've gained from this practice is that I made an agreement to work within the boundaries of the practice. The depth comes from the the compromises I make when I bump up against the edges of the framework. It's uncomfortable and I sometimes don't like it, but I am grateful for it.
I think it's important that I've made that choice voluntarily. No one makes me do the poses in order. There are no yoga police to make trouble if I only do the ones I like. If I did whatever I wanted, I would inevitably do what is comfortable, what feels good, and what I'm "good" at. I would not be challenged and I wouldn't grow.
I'm aware now that so much more is possible than I ever imagined....but those possibilities are only there because I submitted to the practice, boundaries included.
Part of that process of submission for me has been learning to set the boundaries intelligently, feeling out where not to be so rigid and where to keep on doing the bits that are uncomfortable, when I'd rather not. This is a process for a lifetime and I expect it to keep evolving as long as I keep practicing.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Adaptability
Today's 'Ode to Practice' is adaptability. This practice can be whatever I need it to be: hard, easy, strong, restorative, dynamic, or quiet.
This morning I woke up with a sore throat. Yippee, apparently the stress and lack of sleep have caught up with me and now I'm sick...arg. Unless, I actually have a fever, I still do some practice even when I don't feel great. "Some practice" doesn't mean every last pose that I'm working on though.
One of the most challenging, but important things that I learned in the first few years of my practice was how to do less. I'm still learning and exploring the ways that practice can be adapted to support whatever is going on with me now.
Today, practice was sun salutations, fundamental standing, modified closing and rest. It was short, quiet and low-energy, but still helped ease the transition from sleep to "semi"-awake.
This morning I woke up with a sore throat. Yippee, apparently the stress and lack of sleep have caught up with me and now I'm sick...arg. Unless, I actually have a fever, I still do some practice even when I don't feel great. "Some practice" doesn't mean every last pose that I'm working on though.
One of the most challenging, but important things that I learned in the first few years of my practice was how to do less. I'm still learning and exploring the ways that practice can be adapted to support whatever is going on with me now.
Today, practice was sun salutations, fundamental standing, modified closing and rest. It was short, quiet and low-energy, but still helped ease the transition from sleep to "semi"-awake.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Rest
Today's 'Ode to Practice' is rest. My brain is currently full of thoughts. They're not just any thoughts, but loud pushy thoughts that keep shoving the other thoughts around and competing to see who can shout the loudest.
It might make sense then that sleep with all this mental noise is difficult. Efforts to sleep on Saturday night earned me about 3 hours of actual sleep and about 6 hours of restless tossing and thinking.
Sunday night is the last day of my practice week; my practice week is shifted over a bit from the norm. Monday is the day I take as a rest day at the moment. Sunday night, I usually join students and friends to practice with the other Ashtanga teacher in town. Sunday night is primary night.
It seems that a soothing quiet primary was needed. There are, I think, good reasons that everyone finishes their practice week with primary no matter how many sequences they practice during the rest of the week. One of those reasons is a need for rest.
Soothed nervous system=soothed body=soothed brain=finally getting a solid nights sleep.
It might make sense then that sleep with all this mental noise is difficult. Efforts to sleep on Saturday night earned me about 3 hours of actual sleep and about 6 hours of restless tossing and thinking.
Sunday night is the last day of my practice week; my practice week is shifted over a bit from the norm. Monday is the day I take as a rest day at the moment. Sunday night, I usually join students and friends to practice with the other Ashtanga teacher in town. Sunday night is primary night.
It seems that a soothing quiet primary was needed. There are, I think, good reasons that everyone finishes their practice week with primary no matter how many sequences they practice during the rest of the week. One of those reasons is a need for rest.
Soothed nervous system=soothed body=soothed brain=finally getting a solid nights sleep.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Yoga as Life-Raft
Every now and then, what I think I know isn't. Everything is turned on it's head.
"Well!" thought Alice to herself. After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down-stairs!"
'Down the Rabbit Hole'--Lewis Carroll
This is 'Yoga as Life Raft' time.
So as an Ode to Practice, for the next 45 days, I'll post one of the things that I love so much about the Ashtanga vinyasa practice. These are all the reasons it sustains me when I have the feeling that the ground has given way beneath me.
Tonight's Ode to Practice: The primary series feels like a security blanket. One of the greatest gifts that the primary series has given back after all the time I've put into it, is a sense of comfort. For nearly an hour and a half I get to fold forward or curl into a little ball. My nervous system is soothed.
"Well!" thought Alice to herself. After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down-stairs!"
'Down the Rabbit Hole'--Lewis Carroll
This is 'Yoga as Life Raft' time.
So as an Ode to Practice, for the next 45 days, I'll post one of the things that I love so much about the Ashtanga vinyasa practice. These are all the reasons it sustains me when I have the feeling that the ground has given way beneath me.
Tonight's Ode to Practice: The primary series feels like a security blanket. One of the greatest gifts that the primary series has given back after all the time I've put into it, is a sense of comfort. For nearly an hour and a half I get to fold forward or curl into a little ball. My nervous system is soothed.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Cultivating Attention
A few mornings ago in practice, I noticed something that made me laugh.
I was in headstand, finishing up practice, and startled myself into laughter with the realization that I had been completely lost in a daydream. It was funny to me how far I had come only to arrive back in the same place.
Early on, when a pose is new, it usually requires my full attention. In the case of headstand, it was downright scary! I was very bendy and found it difficult to glue everything together in a way that would keep me stable. Each practice at about shoulderstand, I would remember that headstand was next. The butterflies would start. I'd steel my nerves and set it up. Toppling over felt like a very real possibility, although I rarely actually went over.
Fast forward a few years....
I had a moment a few years ago where I realized that headstand had become "just a pose". There were no more pre-pose-butterflies. In fact, I didn't really think about it at all....just moved into the pose on the count and then back out again when it was time.
That headstand has now evolved into a place where I can become completely lost in a day dream, shows me how far I have come physically...and reminds me why practice is not about the poses. Maintaining awareness and attention has to be a choice. Therein lies the practice....because apparently with enough time and practice, I can be unaware just about anywhere.
I was in headstand, finishing up practice, and startled myself into laughter with the realization that I had been completely lost in a daydream. It was funny to me how far I had come only to arrive back in the same place.
Early on, when a pose is new, it usually requires my full attention. In the case of headstand, it was downright scary! I was very bendy and found it difficult to glue everything together in a way that would keep me stable. Each practice at about shoulderstand, I would remember that headstand was next. The butterflies would start. I'd steel my nerves and set it up. Toppling over felt like a very real possibility, although I rarely actually went over.
Fast forward a few years....
I had a moment a few years ago where I realized that headstand had become "just a pose". There were no more pre-pose-butterflies. In fact, I didn't really think about it at all....just moved into the pose on the count and then back out again when it was time.
That headstand has now evolved into a place where I can become completely lost in a day dream, shows me how far I have come physically...and reminds me why practice is not about the poses. Maintaining awareness and attention has to be a choice. Therein lies the practice....because apparently with enough time and practice, I can be unaware just about anywhere.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Shradda
Wikipedia defines Shradda this way:
Śrāddha (श्राद्ध, shraaddha), Hindu ritual performed for one's ancestors, especially dead parents
Śraddhā (श्रद्धा, shraddhaa), the Sanskrit term for "faith", in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism.
B.K.S. Iyengar, in his translation of the Yoga Sutra defines it this way:
"trust which comes from revelation, faith, confidence, reverence"
On the cusp of a new year and on the tail of a visit with family, I find myself leaning hard on the practice: shradda.
Occasionally, when I've been jumping into Bakasana B, but not landing it, because I was holding back, not really going for it, my teacher has said to me: "Shradda, Christine. Trust it."
Those are words I remind myself of over and over again. Shradda. Trust it.
There are big risks ahead. There have been days in the past weeks where I felt like I was drowning in uncertainty. Waves of fear and doubt were knocking me over. Doubt voiced by well-meaning people was swamping my confidence to the point where I felt knocked to the beach, eating sand.
A recent post on Deborah's blog touched a nerve as I was reminded that I have the opportunity to explore this relationship with fear, doubt, and trust daily. As she shares from her workshop with David Garrigues, second series is very much about risk-taking. It is not, however, blind risk-taking in a close-your-eyes-and-throw-yourself-over-the-cliff type of risk taking, but rather a practice in walking toward what you know you can do with eyes wide open...even when it scares you more than anything.
Yoga Sutra 1:20 says "Practice must be pursued with trust, confidence, vigour, keen memory and power of absorption to break this spiritual complacency." -Iyengar translation
...and I'm reminded that life, which the practice mirrors, must be pursued in the same way.
Shradda. Trust it.
Śrāddha (श्राद्ध, shraaddha), Hindu ritual performed for one's ancestors, especially dead parents
Śraddhā (श्रद्धा, shraddhaa), the Sanskrit term for "faith", in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism.
B.K.S. Iyengar, in his translation of the Yoga Sutra defines it this way:
"trust which comes from revelation, faith, confidence, reverence"
On the cusp of a new year and on the tail of a visit with family, I find myself leaning hard on the practice: shradda.
Occasionally, when I've been jumping into Bakasana B, but not landing it, because I was holding back, not really going for it, my teacher has said to me: "Shradda, Christine. Trust it."
Those are words I remind myself of over and over again. Shradda. Trust it.
There are big risks ahead. There have been days in the past weeks where I felt like I was drowning in uncertainty. Waves of fear and doubt were knocking me over. Doubt voiced by well-meaning people was swamping my confidence to the point where I felt knocked to the beach, eating sand.
A recent post on Deborah's blog touched a nerve as I was reminded that I have the opportunity to explore this relationship with fear, doubt, and trust daily. As she shares from her workshop with David Garrigues, second series is very much about risk-taking. It is not, however, blind risk-taking in a close-your-eyes-and-throw-yourself-over-the-cliff type of risk taking, but rather a practice in walking toward what you know you can do with eyes wide open...even when it scares you more than anything.
Yoga Sutra 1:20 says "Practice must be pursued with trust, confidence, vigour, keen memory and power of absorption to break this spiritual complacency." -Iyengar translation
...and I'm reminded that life, which the practice mirrors, must be pursued in the same way.
Shradda. Trust it.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
How to See
I have the feeling that someone has pulled the end of a loose thread and I am starting to unravel...
In the past few days I've tripped over (or walked into?) the edge of the door and left a nice bruise on my foot. I've hit my "funny bone" (what's funny about it, really?) on the top of the car door resulting in my whole hand going numb briefly and an additional lovely bruise. I returned to my bike at the end of the work day on Tuesday to find the back tire flat for the second time in a few days...
Is any of this really a problem...
I've been thinking lately, that really it comes down to what I see and how I see it, clarity or murkiness.
This morning's practice was cold (by Florida standards) but despite that, I reveled in it. I watched thoughts come and I watched them go. I set a pace for the breath and then relaxed into it, finding the feeling of being carried from one pose to the next. I'm content with the challenges that my practice presents at the moment. For the moment, I'm interested and curious about them without fretting about whether I will ever be strong enough to see them change. It's enough to feel the shoulders come alive as I lift and hop in nakrasana and yet know that there is so much more possible.
I'll be spending this weekend with my teacher attending his weekend "Observation Workshop". It's my favorite of all the workshops that he teaches aside from regular Mysore practice with him. He's the only person I know that teaches a workshop entirely focused on how to see. I'll be returning for my fourth round of this workshop...yes it's that good.
...because what I think I know about how things really are often comes down to how I see them.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Belated Gratitude
This may be the time of year when I lean most heavily on the practice.
I've often found it especially hard to see clearly over the weeks that are referred to by malls and movies alike as "the holidays".
Fellow Ashtangis who maintain an asana practice and a "parenting practice" often refer to parenting as Seventh Series. As I am not a parent, I won't presume to understand the depth of challenges that they uncover. I might though, presume to suggest, that being a daughter, or a cousin, or a niece, or a daughter-in-law, at times too approaches seventh series.
My biggest difficulty with "the holidays" is with my own feeling of murkiness.
Underneath the swells of expectation and disappointment that come and go over these weeks is the steadiness and constancy of practice.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Creativity and the Structure of Practice
A new Wired Science article says using a framework or a form to work within increases creativity.
The experiments are discussed here:http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2011/11/need-to-create-get-a-constraint/
The article has this to say: "The larger lesson is that the brain is a neural tangle of near infinite possibility, which means that it spends a lot of time and energy choosing what not to notice. As a result, creativity is traded away for efficiency; we think in literal prose, not symbolist poetry. And this is why constraints are so important: It’s not until we encounter an unexpected hindrance – a challenge we can’t easily resolve – that the chains of cognition are loosened, giving us newfound access to the weird connections simmering in the unconscious."
...More evidence that it's bumping up against the supposed obstacles that opens up my mind and nudges me toward a clearer picture of reality.
There is wisdom in working within the structure of the practice.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The Cycle of Vulnerability and Withdrawl
I've been thinking a lot lately about vulnerability and my tendency to cycle through a mental phase of opening up followed by a phase of pulling in. A post on Expansion and Contraction from new blogger, Abhyasa, gave me some more food for thought.
It's interesting to me to watch where the fear and discomfort come up.
Physically, I associate opening up with back-bending and if that is true, then physically, open is my default. I have never been afraid of "doing" back bends. I was never afraid of dropping back. I have never been afraid of kapotasana. I have "lost and found" both drop-backs and kapotasana several times now over the life of my practice, yet even when they were tight or puzzlingly inaccessible, I wasn't afraid of doing the poses.
Physically, I find back-bending, at the least, energizing and at the most, euphoric...but for a long time that post-back bend exhilaration was almost always followed several hours later by a feeling of panic...a sort of vague feeling of vulnerability, a feeling that I had opened up too much. I'd have a sudden need to both physically and mentally pull in, curl into a ball and close up. The deeper the back bends and the more of them I was doing, the greater the need to close up once the post-back bend euphoria passed.
Mentally, outside of practice I followed the same pattern: the deeper the opening up, the greater the feeling panic afterwards and the greater the desire to pull in and withdraw.
For a long time, I felt a certain amount of guilt when the openness overwhelmed me and I closed down. Why couldn't I maintain openness all the time? Why the post-openness panic?
The wisdom of the Ashtanga sequencing is slowly working it's magic and the physical ups and downs are leveling out. Mental patterns are following the physical ones. Physically, I am sloooooowly building strength to match the bendiness I was born with. I notice as the body evens out, so does the mind. There is more steadiness underneath the openness and I am extremely grateful for every bit of it.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Too Much Thinking
This morning was one of those mornings where I just craved the practice.
I've been thinking far too much lately...plotting, analyzing, figuring, psychoanalyzing, and projecting.
The feeling of walking into the pre-dawn calmness in the studio was a very soothing one. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. I wanted nothing from the practice other than the space and time to step out of the mind and just be in the body for a little while. Tensions from the week rolled off as the familiarity of moving and breathing took over. I was startled out of my reverie of contentment as I watched things happen in my practice that I have been working towards for a long time, in some cases for years. One breath after another, inhale, exhale, watching impossibilities become possibilities, finally surprised into laughter.
The mind is a funny animal.
Much thanks to Karen who ages ago posted a link to Frontal Cortex...a blog on neuroscience. I've been an avid reader ever since. It's interesting to see that neuroscientists and Ashtangis often ask the same questions...we just apply different experimental procedures as we explore the ways in which those questions might be answered.
Thoughts from the neuroscientist folks on the mind:
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2011/10/the-importance-of-mind-wandering/
A clip: "In recent years, however, neuroscience has dramatically revised our views of mind-wandering. For one thing, it turns out that the mind wanders a ridiculous amount. Last year, the Harvard psychologists Daniel Gilbert and Matthew A. Killingsworth published a fascinating paper in Science documenting our penchant for disappearing down the rabbit hole of our own mind. The scientists developed an iPhone app that contacted 2,250 volunteers at random intervals, asking them about their current activity and levels of happiness. It turns out that people were engaged in mind-wandering 46.9 percent of the time. In fact, the only activity in which their minds were not constantly wandering was love making. They were able to focus for that."
...and http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2011/10/is-self-knowledge-overrated/
A clip: "Since the Israeli psychologists began studying loss aversion in the early nineteen-seventies, it has been used to explain a stunning variety of irrational behaviors, from the misguided decisions of investors—they refuse to sell losing stocks—to the stickiness of condo prices in the aftermath of a housing bubble. It’s been used to justify our fondness for the status quo—the present may stink, but we still don’t want to lose it—and the cowardice of N.F.L. coaches, who are far too afraid to go for it on fourth down. Loss aversion even excuses our social habits: studies have shown that it generally takes at least five kind comments to compensate for a single criticism. (The ratios are even worse for criminals: a person convicted of murder must perform at least twenty-five acts of “life-saving heroism” before he is forgiven.) This is an impressive amount of explanatory firepower for a theory rooted in hypotheticals.
I've been thinking far too much lately...plotting, analyzing, figuring, psychoanalyzing, and projecting.
The feeling of walking into the pre-dawn calmness in the studio was a very soothing one. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. I wanted nothing from the practice other than the space and time to step out of the mind and just be in the body for a little while. Tensions from the week rolled off as the familiarity of moving and breathing took over. I was startled out of my reverie of contentment as I watched things happen in my practice that I have been working towards for a long time, in some cases for years. One breath after another, inhale, exhale, watching impossibilities become possibilities, finally surprised into laughter.
The mind is a funny animal.
Much thanks to Karen who ages ago posted a link to Frontal Cortex...a blog on neuroscience. I've been an avid reader ever since. It's interesting to see that neuroscientists and Ashtangis often ask the same questions...we just apply different experimental procedures as we explore the ways in which those questions might be answered.
Thoughts from the neuroscientist folks on the mind:
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2011/10/the-importance-of-mind-wandering/
A clip: "In recent years, however, neuroscience has dramatically revised our views of mind-wandering. For one thing, it turns out that the mind wanders a ridiculous amount. Last year, the Harvard psychologists Daniel Gilbert and Matthew A. Killingsworth published a fascinating paper in Science documenting our penchant for disappearing down the rabbit hole of our own mind. The scientists developed an iPhone app that contacted 2,250 volunteers at random intervals, asking them about their current activity and levels of happiness. It turns out that people were engaged in mind-wandering 46.9 percent of the time. In fact, the only activity in which their minds were not constantly wandering was love making. They were able to focus for that."
...and http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2011/10/is-self-knowledge-overrated/
A clip: "Since the Israeli psychologists began studying loss aversion in the early nineteen-seventies, it has been used to explain a stunning variety of irrational behaviors, from the misguided decisions of investors—they refuse to sell losing stocks—to the stickiness of condo prices in the aftermath of a housing bubble. It’s been used to justify our fondness for the status quo—the present may stink, but we still don’t want to lose it—and the cowardice of N.F.L. coaches, who are far too afraid to go for it on fourth down. Loss aversion even excuses our social habits: studies have shown that it generally takes at least five kind comments to compensate for a single criticism. (The ratios are even worse for criminals: a person convicted of murder must perform at least twenty-five acts of “life-saving heroism” before he is forgiven.) This is an impressive amount of explanatory firepower for a theory rooted in hypotheticals.
It’s impossible to overstate the influence of Kahneman and Tversky. Like Darwin, they helped to dismantle a longstanding myth of human exceptionalism. Although we’d always seen ourselves as rational creatures—this was our Promethean gift—it turns out that human reason is rather feeble, easily overwhelmed by ancient instincts and lazy biases. The mind is a deeply flawed machine."
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