Sweet practice yesterday. I had a cancellation, which freed up some extra time in the morning. So I was able to get on my mat, and move how my body wanted, all without concern for the time. The result was fantastic.
The couple days leading up to yesterday had been very active, both on and off the mat - a lot of running around, teaching, music school, workshop - and my practice was bouncy and energetic to match that. Having that extra hour yesterday changed all that. I was on my mat for almost an hour before I even stood up. My body wanted to be 'in' the poses, and I allowed that to happen. There were far too many breaths to know the number but just enough to feel like I could really observe the movement of the inhale and exhale. I really hung out, especially in Virasana, Mandukasana (Frog Seat or Japanese Warrior Seat), Ardha Adho Mukha Svanasana (Half Dog). I was able to notice change. I could literally feel my butt getting heavier into my arches in Mandukasana every time I exhaled. Amazing. I even found a way to rig myself into Navasana with a belt so I could really stay in it without too much shaking or struggle, and I had a wonderfully deep Savasana. Lord knows that doesn't always happen. The whole experience was incredibly illuminating. I felt light and curious, and I wasn't thinking, 'how am I going to teach this?' or 'can I teach this?' It was my practice, for me. That isn't always possible even if the intention is there.
Paul and I were just talking about that the other day; sometimes when we get to really practice on our own, for ourselves, it can start to feel like we aren't setting ourselves up to teach. That might be true but Dana has always reminded me of how important it is to set ourselves up for the day and for our life, and to let our teaching grow from that place. I embrace that.
I don't want to sound attached but... I much prefer to have a practice like yesterday rather than one where I 'thinking' about anything or actively 'preparing' something. Sure, that can be wonderful too but it's different. A practice like that can be exciting because something will happen on the mat that I'll be juiced to share with students, and that's definitely the joy and the gift in teaching. But when I get to practice solely for myself, without any outer concerns I feel truly prepared to LIVE. Wow, now that's a gift.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Friday, November 04, 2005
day-after knees
I've been practicing Lotus Pose (Padmasana) consistently since about April. I had always assumed my knees would never allow me to but one day, much to my surprise, they did. So I made Lotus my Sadhana for the summer months. Since then the knees almost always accept the pose, and it's gotten easier along the way. I knew it would work out that way having spent a similar summer with Virasana. But unlike Lotus, Virasana doesn't seem to be as attached summer temperatures.
To be clear, I'm not one of those 'presto-change-o-I'm-magically-in-Lotus' kind of guys. There are several breaths involved. I flirt with the pose, and sometimes he flirts back. When it's not there, I leave it alone. Simple.
Usually there aren't any adverse day-after affects. But today, Oy!, my knees are screaming obscenities at me. I guess I'll put Lotus away with the shorts and sandals until the weather is warm again. I suppose that would be the upside to relocating to someplace with a warmer climate. Johannes would like that.
To be clear, I'm not one of those 'presto-change-o-I'm-magically-in-Lotus' kind of guys. There are several breaths involved. I flirt with the pose, and sometimes he flirts back. When it's not there, I leave it alone. Simple.
Usually there aren't any adverse day-after affects. But today, Oy!, my knees are screaming obscenities at me. I guess I'll put Lotus away with the shorts and sandals until the weather is warm again. I suppose that would be the upside to relocating to someplace with a warmer climate. Johannes would like that.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Shhhh
How can I breathe into stillness when there isn't any?
Last night my LLCY mentor group had a good chat about Tadasana (Mountain Pose), and teaching from that place of content, breath-filled stillness. It's odd sometimes to think that very often the two most 'difficult' poses in the practice are Tadasana and Savasana (Corpse), the two poses where we are asked to find an alert stillness and simply breathe without 'doing' anything.
This morning on the mat the noisy reality presented itself with... enthusiasm. There are things I don't consciously hear like the ever present electrical whir or the subtle klink in the heating pipes - things that if they were removed would create a deafening, silent void. Then there are the real offenders: the construction banging, sirens, and the loud Portuguese conversation that seems to be circling my front window. Can I stay with my breath and on my mat, even with all of that?
The truth: practicing without all that outer stuff might actually be harder. As a city dweller I don't often have the luxury of practicing without that stuff. I'm not really sure what it's like since it only happens on vacation or at a retreat. That setting almost seems less that real. As a result my breath serves as a tool to navigate the constant murmur of the city. All those sounds become part of the experience.
I can't breathe away the noise, at least not on the outside. I can gratefully breathe in the stuff on the outside and create some stillness on the inside. Maybe in the end I can breathe out some stillness.
Last night my LLCY mentor group had a good chat about Tadasana (Mountain Pose), and teaching from that place of content, breath-filled stillness. It's odd sometimes to think that very often the two most 'difficult' poses in the practice are Tadasana and Savasana (Corpse), the two poses where we are asked to find an alert stillness and simply breathe without 'doing' anything.
This morning on the mat the noisy reality presented itself with... enthusiasm. There are things I don't consciously hear like the ever present electrical whir or the subtle klink in the heating pipes - things that if they were removed would create a deafening, silent void. Then there are the real offenders: the construction banging, sirens, and the loud Portuguese conversation that seems to be circling my front window. Can I stay with my breath and on my mat, even with all of that?
The truth: practicing without all that outer stuff might actually be harder. As a city dweller I don't often have the luxury of practicing without that stuff. I'm not really sure what it's like since it only happens on vacation or at a retreat. That setting almost seems less that real. As a result my breath serves as a tool to navigate the constant murmur of the city. All those sounds become part of the experience.
I can't breathe away the noise, at least not on the outside. I can gratefully breathe in the stuff on the outside and create some stillness on the inside. Maybe in the end I can breathe out some stillness.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
hurt?
"But now it doesn't hurt." That's what a student said to me recently after I gave her a block to sit on in her Virasana (Hero's Pose). I sit with Virasana at some point every day, and I always sit on something because otherwise it would hurt.
From where has this idea come, this misconception that the re-union of the breath, mind and body is somehow supposed to be some sort of ancient physical torture? I'm not saying we shouldn't test our boundaries and edges and familiar comfort zones. If nothing else, we should practice that every day. We should make friends with our discomfort (different than pain) to avoid the endless clinging to or craving of our likes and dislikes. But who said anything about beating yourself up to the point of pain?
Every day I roll out my mat, and I challenge myself both in the way I move but also in the way choose not to move. If I am mindful, patient, and present I can move deeper into shapes, and maybe end up somewhere new. If I'm ambitious or goal-driven, and go to the places where I'm in pain - well pain usually leads to injury or, worse, thinking rather than breathing.
Isn't there enough daily pain and suffering? Why not embrace yoga as a way to lessen the pain and suffering, and increase the boundless joy? Can my practice teach me to laugh more and grunt less?
Tall order?
Something tells me I'll be teaching a lot of Virasana for the next chunk of time.
"sthira sukham asanam" our connection to the earth (i.e. the seat or the 'yoga pose') should be steady and joyful. - Sutra II.46
From where has this idea come, this misconception that the re-union of the breath, mind and body is somehow supposed to be some sort of ancient physical torture? I'm not saying we shouldn't test our boundaries and edges and familiar comfort zones. If nothing else, we should practice that every day. We should make friends with our discomfort (different than pain) to avoid the endless clinging to or craving of our likes and dislikes. But who said anything about beating yourself up to the point of pain?
Every day I roll out my mat, and I challenge myself both in the way I move but also in the way choose not to move. If I am mindful, patient, and present I can move deeper into shapes, and maybe end up somewhere new. If I'm ambitious or goal-driven, and go to the places where I'm in pain - well pain usually leads to injury or, worse, thinking rather than breathing.
Isn't there enough daily pain and suffering? Why not embrace yoga as a way to lessen the pain and suffering, and increase the boundless joy? Can my practice teach me to laugh more and grunt less?
Tall order?
Something tells me I'll be teaching a lot of Virasana for the next chunk of time.
"sthira sukham asanam" our connection to the earth (i.e. the seat or the 'yoga pose') should be steady and joyful. - Sutra II.46
Mahadeva
So the idea was since it was a Halloween kirtan that everyone should dress as their favorite deity. Every now and then I like to follow the program so I did myself up as Lord Shiva, Hara, Mahadeva, and was well received. My friend Patty here, always looks like the divine Anandamayi Ma. Too bad more people didn't bite at the bait.
Bhagavan? He's always in divine costume.
Jai!