Quiet morning

Today The Cop had an early shift. I would have been game for starting practice at 3:30 AM, but he's not quite that hooked yet ;-) So I got up at 4:30 with him and had some coffee. My Gift appeared at 5:00 and asked if it would be bad if she practiced after school. Of course not. I feel for her. She wants to establish a routine, but it's hard when you're a teenager, to wake early. I remember trying to establish routines when I was her age, and it was very hard. In fact, it seemed impossible. I will help her where I can, but she's going to have to find her own way. Needless to say, her transition to college dorm life will likely mean that a daily routine is not on the menu. But we'll see.

So I had an alone practice. There are transformations taking place, as a result of practice, but I am not sure how to describe, or even understand, them. Some kind of physical, structural change, but also some kind of literacy that happens at the place where physical and not-physical meet. It's like grasping at a dream, trying to explain this. Often people say they cannot remember their practice, and I think it has something to do with this mode of awareness. It's quite absorbing.

On the gross physical level, the components in transition ;-) seem to be hip flexors, knees and subclavius. No problems, really--these are just the current stress points in the system. I wondered a bit if knees actually have the potential to transform, or if they are only given to gradations of stability/instability. Guess I'll find out eventually...

During finishing poses I had the feeling I've been having rather often lately: are these poses really necessary? I know, it's heresy. And no doubt it has something to do with how much I dislike shoulderstand (seriously, I hate it). Pretty much from shoulderstand to uttana padasana, I'm on autopilot. Headstand through savasana, though, is great. I wish I had some insight into this. Maybe I'm just not sensitive enough yet to "get" these poses. In my email to Volleyball Guy this morning, I mentioned that I want to talk about the finishing poses when he gets back.

In savasana, I found myself thinking about the people who died in the mudslide in the Philippines. There's a saying, along the lines of: "The ten thousand things return to the one." To illustrate the fact that all individual forms arise out of the creative force of the universe, and then are returned to it. I find this strangely comforting, particularly in instances where people die suddenly, in the midst of just another day.