I'm dizzy and want to puke. As I approach my umpteenth vinyasa before the next pose, I sigh with exhaustion and contemplate the amount of asanas I have left until the closing sequence. Ugh, and then the closing sequence?! I'll never make it. Never.
I imagine laying back in Savasana for just a few moments--a three minute rest would make everything ok, I know it. Two minutes even. But I know better. Instead, I sigh again, and begin to move. Exhaling first, I inhale, hold, and jump back...exhale lower, inhale up, exhale lower, inhale hold...and I'm through. Exactly the same spot from which I began. I begin to fold into the next pose, then through to the other side...
Describing the desire to throw up and storm out of the shala because I dispise my practice is not what I want to be posting about. I'd much rather tell you about the beauty and grace with which I flow, and paint you a picture of a girl who glides glowingly with warmth and calm from beginning to end. Instead, the glide comes only because it's a required part of the sequence, and is actually rather choppy. The glow and warmth is sweat, heat, humidity, and pain. The calm only looks that way because holding back tears makes me look focused. Instead of writing a love story about my practice that demonstrates the trust I have in myself, my committment to yoga, my open heart, and my total and utter awareness (breath, bandas, dristi, bend elbows, lift knees, head up, etc.), I loathe this. I'm floundering, defeated, done.
It's hard to explain why I would be invested in something that constantly beats me to a pulp. This practice tears me down each day, getting the best of my fear, pushing me to face anxiety, discomfort, and stress. I am full of doubt. I don't feel strong. I am weak and lifeless. I wish I had never started practicing Ashtanga, and wish it didn't even exist. Is it really necessary to do the entire sequence each time you practice? Really? Really?! Because I don't wanna. You know these muscles in my arms? They might look strong to you, but they're just illusions I carry around so you won't know that I'm really quite weak. You know this smile on my face? I just wear it so you won't see that inside I'm falling apart. My body and spirit have nothing to give and never did. Eveything you see is a facade--I'm unbalanced, inexperienced, angry, and in no way, a dedicated or blissful yogi. My shoulders ache and hamstrings are tight. My back is on fire, I still want to throw up, my wrists are sore, and...
And then.
And then it's Monday afternoon. 4th practice in 2 days because we've volunteered to attend the teacher-training adjustment tests in addition to our regular practice. I walk in, and because it's been happening all week, I again expect to have a shit practice. So here we go--bring on the pain and struggle--I'm starting to get used to it. I didn't want to come this afternoon, I don't want to be here now, and I'm only here because of my friends. This is all for them, as it's certainly not for me.
And then. Opening prayer and I begin. Maybe it's the heat and humidity of the room. Maybe it's because the afternoon is warmer, or because we faced our mats the other way and I'm gazing in a new direction. Maybe the dose of laughter I shared with my friends before class began gave me a little boost. Maybe it's because I know that today, Ajay is sitting in the back and won't be coming over (even though I'm actually expecting more adjustments than usual, as it is an "adjustment test"). Maybe it's because I finally gave up. Maybe it's because giving up is sometimes synonymous with giving in and letting go. Maybe it's because I finally faced the fact that I can't always be strong, and so I let go of expectations. Maybe it's because I faced the fact that sometimes, my body will not keep up with my mind, no matter how hard I try... Maybe it's all of it.
Today, in the back of the room, I felt my arms float up over my head. Gazing up at my hands, something was different. Suddenly, I was lighter, freer. Surya A and B, and I was feeling good. My spine stretched long, and neck was soft. The sweat was no longer heavy. My breath was relaxed and calm. My mind--well, it wasn't clear, but it wasn't fighting. I got through the opening and standing sequence. Made it through janu and marichi series... And suddenly I'm starting the closing sequence. I stood up to begin my backbends, and as I began to drop back, I saw Ajay behind me, smiling. I know in part, it was because he was watching his teacher-in-training offer a rather intimidating and difficult assist. But he caught me directly in the eyes, and I knew that more than anything, his smile was for me. It was pride. He saw my confidence and will. He knew that I stood up because I can do this daunting posture without assistance, and because we both knew that I would take care of myself regardless of whether someone was there to assist. He knew I felt strong and that I trusted my ability to get back on my own, and help someone else learn. As my hands touched the floor beneath me, our upsidedown gazes locked in that moment. And finally, I sighed for myself. I sighed a new breath--not of exhaustion or defeat, but one of relief. I can take care of myself and get myself through anything that comes. With all of my mind and heart, I trust myself fully and completely.
So I guess, as I already knew--the idea is to push on anyway. Not everday is perfect. Not every week or month or year is perfect--and some will be full of disappointment. But you can't run away from yourself. We're not going to be strong everyday--but knowing that and accepting that is different from just saying it. You have to actually go through not being strong for any of this to make sense. We can't know what kind of challenges we have the potential to face if we walk away when they greet us. You can't just be strong when it's convenient--that's not what strength is about. We won't know the extent of our will if we don't push through the moments that are the hardest. It's when we're low and exhausted that our strength really matters, that's when we need it. So why then, go into any practice--or other experience--with great expectations? Each moment will happen as it comes, and all of our emotions, feelings, aches, pains, frustrations--all of them are fleeting. All of them will pass. They are forever ebbing and flowing, just as our asana and breath cycles move in and out and onto the next. With each gust of wind, each rising and setting of the sun, we work so hard to control ourselves, our emotions, our lives, each other; we strive for perfection even though we pay lip service to the notion that we don't care... But the lesson in all of this is not in learning how to approach or control challenges, but in figuring out how we will respond to them. We never know what each day, hour, or second will bring. The only thing we can choose is how we react. Will we be angry or fearful? Will you respond to panic with more panic? Stress with more stress? Or will you work to train yourself to accept the challenges in front of you, accept them, face them, and move through them? Will we let ourselves become defeated? And if we do, will we learn from that so that next time we are able to pick ourselves up? How we confront the unexpected, how we deal with life's surprises--that is what we have to figure out. And the idea of course, is to embrace it all, and find the joy in all things. In the pain, there are lessons, and the lessons are the secrets to finding joy. The struggle leads us to know that we are strong. The downs bring highs, and peace can only come if you allow it to be welcomed into your heart and mind. When you get the shit kicked out of you, remember that you won't be bruised forever. So sit up and instead of feeling sorry for yourself, be thankful that bruises aren't broken bones. Broken bones aren't missing limbs. A cluttered mind is a working mind... The clutter means that inside, there is not only anger and confusion, but happiness and serenity...
And if tomorrow, when I am dizzy and want to quit and puke and scream and storm off... when I ask, "what the fuck am I doing here?!" I'd appreciate it if you could kindly remind me of all the stuff I just said. Really, I'd be incredibly grateful.
And really, I'm grateful anyway. I love it here. I love this practice--it's just as moody and as complicated as I am. And it makes me happier than almost anything in the world. I can't wait for tomorrow.
(Oh, and just because I can't get enough, we're tossing the travel plans and staying here in Mysore to continue studying Ashtanga with Ajay until we leave. So either my instinct is disturbingly cruel or perfectly brilliant. It's probably a little of both, but whatever it is, I just know that I'm not ready to go. I found my teacher, and my heart is happy and full because of it. After one month of this--and years of practicing yoga--I feel like I just started practicing for the first time in my life. I have so much to learn. To say that I'm happy about staying on for another month is an understatement...and I can't wait to keep going.)
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Chitti Vrittis
Hello again from India! (That never gets old, I tell ya.) I'm back at Rishi's internet cafe, wishing I could include a couple of pics for you this time around, but poor Rajini (the woman who owns the place) just has the slowest internet in the world. Next time, I'll post this from Anu's so I can get some up for you. In the meantime, imagine that you are viewing pictures from my day at the park yesterday--we found one with a lake!--which include peacocks in trees, serene water with couples and families in row boats, a butterfly garden, flowers, and of course, Liz and I's smiling faces.
Chitti vritti #1: I find it amusing that during meditation I can easily drown out the sounds of barking dogs, passing traffic, women sweeping or hosing off their driveways (about which they are meticulous!), men on bikes selling fruits, singing "Mango! Pineapple! Papaya!" and the clanking of neighbors dishes and dinners being cooked...yet it's nearly impossible to quiet my mind. And it's not like the thoughts are deep or contain profound insight on the meaning of life. It's more like, "Liz had a good idea to mark our clothespins with little hearts, but too bad they still get mixed in with the neighbors," or "that's nice that people leave veggie/fruit scraps on corners for wandering animals, but I wonder if it causes animal drama? I can hear the cows now, 'damn goats, they got here early today'." In the yoga sutras, these fluctuations of the mind are called "chitti vrittis," and the point of our practice, as stated in the first yoga sutra "...yoga chitti vritti nirodaha," is to turn off those thoughts. So I'll keep workin' on that. Guess it's a good thing I'm in India.
Chitti vritti #2: I saw a man scale a coconut tree the other day. The tree was at least four to five stories high. And he did it so fast! Crazy.
CV #17: In the last week, I've been to two pujas (Indians love their pujas!), for two great teachers who have influenced so many lives. The first was for PK Jois to honor his passing, and celebrate the gifts of love and knowledge he passed along while he was here on earth. I joined his family, friends, community members, Brahmins, spiritual leaders, and yogis from around the world in his shala to gather once again in his honor. In amazement, I watched as people from around the world--people of different backgrounds, ethnicities, religions, political positions, races, genders, etc--joined together through yoga and shared belief in the possibility of knowing peace, love, connectedness. No, we didn't come together to celebrate our flexible hamstrings, waistline measurements, or the strength of our biceps. We came together because we share this love, this life, these moments. Even though many of us look different, speak different languages, and come from far off places, we all seek to feel, experience, and extend that which is good and loving. We know that those things don't just take place in some spiritual realm, but occur right here on earth. So we joined and celebrated Guruji, each other, and this life we share. We sat peacefully together and extended smiles and expressions of thanks and grattitude for being part of this world. I know I've said this before, but I'm still trying to figure out what I did to deserve this incredible life. There is so much good, so much love. I am so blessed to be able to exist in this beautiful world, with my friends, family, with all of you...
CV #27a: The second puja was for my teacher, Ajay. Amazing, fantastic--and dare I say--adorable, Ajay (and yes I will post a pic soon!). He and his wife were celebrating their housewarming and invited all of us to attend. Under a colorful tent in the front of his house, we ate, laughed, talked, and enjoyed a really special afternoon. It felt like such a gift to see his home, meet some of his friends and family, and see our friends from the shala outside of our regular sweaty, groaning and panting practice. We had one of my favorite meals so far (have I mentioned the food in this country?!), which we ate off of banana leaves with our hands, as most often do here. And yes, I now eat with my hands whenever possible. (Sorry mom.)
CV #161: Kids are really well behaved here. Americans would be shocked at how happy they are, while actually listening to their parents. Between you and I, I think it's in part due to the fact that they're allowed to eat with their hands, and don't have to deal with adults yelling at them to not play with their food. And they're allowed to get dirty. And run around outside and scream from time to time. Imagine that! The only time kids in India seem to cry or yell really loudly is when it's time for Liz and I to go to bed.
CV #169: Get this! I have been reading books that have not been assigned by professors, are for use in research projects, thesis developments, or paper citations. I'm reading fiction even! Just because I can, as soon as I finish this book (The Witch of Portabello, which is really good so far), I'm going to forget the entire thing without being able to tell you the main points or much of the story at all. Pure pleasure reading. I love India!
CV #192: Today I started washing my purple tyedye skirt and then forgot about it, so it sat in the bucket all day. When we got home the water was completely purple. Does this mean that when the dye washed out that it also simultaneously redyed itself? Hmm. Also, Indian clothes are NOT prewashed (and that salt-soak idea does not work, thank you), so most of my clothes now vary between similar shades of blue, green, brown, and red. But it kinda makes some of these old t-shirts feel new.
CV #287: There is this bird that makes woo-woo noises. For the first few days I was here I thought it was some siren or something, but it just goes "woo woo woo woo woo!" It gets up around the time we have our 430am coffee, and greets the day with us. Cutest bird ever. Although maybe not, because I've never actually seen it. But Liz says it's a bird. I suppose it's possible that she's messing with me, and in the distance somewhere is a man with a little siren sounding it every morning, as he and Liz laugh to themselves.
CV #590: Persad, the coconut stand man, is not only good at picking out the "crunchy coconuts," but just so happens to make the best peanut butter ever known to human kind, and his almond butter is just as amazing. Oh, and I'm also now obsessed with mangoes, and average at least two per day. You've never tasted heaven like this, I tell ya. And Liz has become excellent at haggling with the guys on bikes ("Mango! Papaya!") selling 'em. 6 mangoes, 40 rupees. Go girl.
CV #811-10,994: As you can tell, life in Mysore is pretty much the same. I've got yoga bruises all over my body, which I wear like badges of honor, because I'm working my ass off, and loving every minute of it. Except of course, when I'm fighting it, in pain, or crying after backbends (as Liz and I have both come to realize, backbends are often very emotional. But it's ok because we giggle in other poses so it all evens out). I'm getting acupuncture for my carpal tunnel and hoping to get some relief soon (imagine!). I also got some for my sciatic pain from when I fell down the stairs last week in the rain (sigh). Band practice is of course still going, and the Dirty Scooter Crew (that's us!) will have their tour dates up soon. Oh, and speaking of badges of honor--"I've got blisters on my fingers!" which is quite exciting. And we're not the only musicians in town, as there is a marching band that we frequently hear from afar during school hours. I've picked up the Indian head wobble, which now comes out each time I answer a yes or no question, or as Liz pointed out, whenever I do or say something for which I feel proud. Liz and I are trying to get out of Mysore on weekends and take some day trips, so last week we visited Bylakuppe, a small town of Buddhist monks who fled Tibet. The monasteries and temples are exquisite. We saw some monks chanting, some praying, some outside diong laundry, others weaving or working on various art projects. In one temple, four monks were creating an intricate and colorfully elaborate mandala of dyed sands, which they later take outside and set free into the wind. What a beautiful process. Just as beautiful were the monks on the motorcycles--the one on back using his cell phone. On other afternoons, Liz continues to plan our travels while I plot ways to get a year's supply of the chocolate man's coffee and jaggary back to the states. We laugh constantly, and do a lot of nothing, which really takes up a lot of our day. We cook a lot of food at home these days, and that's been nice, though tonight we're going out for a big ol' dinner because--well, we can. Have I mentioned that this is the best food in the entire world? I'm not sure how I'll ever live without it, but not thinking too seriously about it, since it's not my concern yet.
CV #26,028: Liz is the best friend in the world. I'm so thankful to her for all of these moments, and all that she is. She is beautiful, wise, funny, strong, and incredible. Her heart is so precious, and her soul so kind. I couldn't imagine doing this trip without her. The best non-sexual-life-partner (NSLP) a girl could have. Again, I don't know how I got so lucky.
CV #139,816: I'm eternally grateful for each one of you out there. And though I would stay here forever if I could, I can't wait to see your beautiful faces again.
CV #139,817: As long as when I get home you give me some time before you ask me what I'm going to do "next" or "with my life."
CV #139,818: And if you just can't help yourself, all I've solidly come up with is: be happy. And maybe shower more. Maybe.
Chitti vritti #1: I find it amusing that during meditation I can easily drown out the sounds of barking dogs, passing traffic, women sweeping or hosing off their driveways (about which they are meticulous!), men on bikes selling fruits, singing "Mango! Pineapple! Papaya!" and the clanking of neighbors dishes and dinners being cooked...yet it's nearly impossible to quiet my mind. And it's not like the thoughts are deep or contain profound insight on the meaning of life. It's more like, "Liz had a good idea to mark our clothespins with little hearts, but too bad they still get mixed in with the neighbors," or "that's nice that people leave veggie/fruit scraps on corners for wandering animals, but I wonder if it causes animal drama? I can hear the cows now, 'damn goats, they got here early today'." In the yoga sutras, these fluctuations of the mind are called "chitti vrittis," and the point of our practice, as stated in the first yoga sutra "...yoga chitti vritti nirodaha," is to turn off those thoughts. So I'll keep workin' on that. Guess it's a good thing I'm in India.
Chitti vritti #2: I saw a man scale a coconut tree the other day. The tree was at least four to five stories high. And he did it so fast! Crazy.
CV #17: In the last week, I've been to two pujas (Indians love their pujas!), for two great teachers who have influenced so many lives. The first was for PK Jois to honor his passing, and celebrate the gifts of love and knowledge he passed along while he was here on earth. I joined his family, friends, community members, Brahmins, spiritual leaders, and yogis from around the world in his shala to gather once again in his honor. In amazement, I watched as people from around the world--people of different backgrounds, ethnicities, religions, political positions, races, genders, etc--joined together through yoga and shared belief in the possibility of knowing peace, love, connectedness. No, we didn't come together to celebrate our flexible hamstrings, waistline measurements, or the strength of our biceps. We came together because we share this love, this life, these moments. Even though many of us look different, speak different languages, and come from far off places, we all seek to feel, experience, and extend that which is good and loving. We know that those things don't just take place in some spiritual realm, but occur right here on earth. So we joined and celebrated Guruji, each other, and this life we share. We sat peacefully together and extended smiles and expressions of thanks and grattitude for being part of this world. I know I've said this before, but I'm still trying to figure out what I did to deserve this incredible life. There is so much good, so much love. I am so blessed to be able to exist in this beautiful world, with my friends, family, with all of you...
CV #27a: The second puja was for my teacher, Ajay. Amazing, fantastic--and dare I say--adorable, Ajay (and yes I will post a pic soon!). He and his wife were celebrating their housewarming and invited all of us to attend. Under a colorful tent in the front of his house, we ate, laughed, talked, and enjoyed a really special afternoon. It felt like such a gift to see his home, meet some of his friends and family, and see our friends from the shala outside of our regular sweaty, groaning and panting practice. We had one of my favorite meals so far (have I mentioned the food in this country?!), which we ate off of banana leaves with our hands, as most often do here. And yes, I now eat with my hands whenever possible. (Sorry mom.)
CV #161: Kids are really well behaved here. Americans would be shocked at how happy they are, while actually listening to their parents. Between you and I, I think it's in part due to the fact that they're allowed to eat with their hands, and don't have to deal with adults yelling at them to not play with their food. And they're allowed to get dirty. And run around outside and scream from time to time. Imagine that! The only time kids in India seem to cry or yell really loudly is when it's time for Liz and I to go to bed.
CV #169: Get this! I have been reading books that have not been assigned by professors, are for use in research projects, thesis developments, or paper citations. I'm reading fiction even! Just because I can, as soon as I finish this book (The Witch of Portabello, which is really good so far), I'm going to forget the entire thing without being able to tell you the main points or much of the story at all. Pure pleasure reading. I love India!
CV #192: Today I started washing my purple tyedye skirt and then forgot about it, so it sat in the bucket all day. When we got home the water was completely purple. Does this mean that when the dye washed out that it also simultaneously redyed itself? Hmm. Also, Indian clothes are NOT prewashed (and that salt-soak idea does not work, thank you), so most of my clothes now vary between similar shades of blue, green, brown, and red. But it kinda makes some of these old t-shirts feel new.
CV #287: There is this bird that makes woo-woo noises. For the first few days I was here I thought it was some siren or something, but it just goes "woo woo woo woo woo!" It gets up around the time we have our 430am coffee, and greets the day with us. Cutest bird ever. Although maybe not, because I've never actually seen it. But Liz says it's a bird. I suppose it's possible that she's messing with me, and in the distance somewhere is a man with a little siren sounding it every morning, as he and Liz laugh to themselves.
CV #590: Persad, the coconut stand man, is not only good at picking out the "crunchy coconuts," but just so happens to make the best peanut butter ever known to human kind, and his almond butter is just as amazing. Oh, and I'm also now obsessed with mangoes, and average at least two per day. You've never tasted heaven like this, I tell ya. And Liz has become excellent at haggling with the guys on bikes ("Mango! Papaya!") selling 'em. 6 mangoes, 40 rupees. Go girl.
CV #811-10,994: As you can tell, life in Mysore is pretty much the same. I've got yoga bruises all over my body, which I wear like badges of honor, because I'm working my ass off, and loving every minute of it. Except of course, when I'm fighting it, in pain, or crying after backbends (as Liz and I have both come to realize, backbends are often very emotional. But it's ok because we giggle in other poses so it all evens out). I'm getting acupuncture for my carpal tunnel and hoping to get some relief soon (imagine!). I also got some for my sciatic pain from when I fell down the stairs last week in the rain (sigh). Band practice is of course still going, and the Dirty Scooter Crew (that's us!) will have their tour dates up soon. Oh, and speaking of badges of honor--"I've got blisters on my fingers!" which is quite exciting. And we're not the only musicians in town, as there is a marching band that we frequently hear from afar during school hours. I've picked up the Indian head wobble, which now comes out each time I answer a yes or no question, or as Liz pointed out, whenever I do or say something for which I feel proud. Liz and I are trying to get out of Mysore on weekends and take some day trips, so last week we visited Bylakuppe, a small town of Buddhist monks who fled Tibet. The monasteries and temples are exquisite. We saw some monks chanting, some praying, some outside diong laundry, others weaving or working on various art projects. In one temple, four monks were creating an intricate and colorfully elaborate mandala of dyed sands, which they later take outside and set free into the wind. What a beautiful process. Just as beautiful were the monks on the motorcycles--the one on back using his cell phone. On other afternoons, Liz continues to plan our travels while I plot ways to get a year's supply of the chocolate man's coffee and jaggary back to the states. We laugh constantly, and do a lot of nothing, which really takes up a lot of our day. We cook a lot of food at home these days, and that's been nice, though tonight we're going out for a big ol' dinner because--well, we can. Have I mentioned that this is the best food in the entire world? I'm not sure how I'll ever live without it, but not thinking too seriously about it, since it's not my concern yet.
CV #26,028: Liz is the best friend in the world. I'm so thankful to her for all of these moments, and all that she is. She is beautiful, wise, funny, strong, and incredible. Her heart is so precious, and her soul so kind. I couldn't imagine doing this trip without her. The best non-sexual-life-partner (NSLP) a girl could have. Again, I don't know how I got so lucky.
CV #139,816: I'm eternally grateful for each one of you out there. And though I would stay here forever if I could, I can't wait to see your beautiful faces again.
CV #139,817: As long as when I get home you give me some time before you ask me what I'm going to do "next" or "with my life."
CV #139,818: And if you just can't help yourself, all I've solidly come up with is: be happy. And maybe shower more. Maybe.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
So I'm working on my next blog, trying once again to pull stories from my journals, letters, and memories. It's taking a bit longer this time, so I'm posting my mini-song, as promised, for now. I'll write a new post soon, but please bear with me, as I am incredibly busy (for instance, today we went to the post office AND yoga, then I dropped off some skirts to get them tailored AND we're having band practice later. Phew!). So in the meantime, enjoy my mini-debut, and Liz's fantastic giggle. As you can see, band practice is paying off, and my song-writing skills are enough to melt anyone's heart.
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