Allergies are out of control over here. The weather is lovely, so we've been sleeping with the windows open and it's killin' me. I can't resist, though--the breeze feels so nice and the birds chirp intermittently all night long. So peaceful. But the pleasure of the open window means I'm waking up and heading over to practice with a stuffy nose and woozy head. I thought about neti-ing before practice today, but I wasn't sufficiently motivated. Drinking coffee and washing my face (and maybe a little web surfing) is the limit of activity at 4:30 AM.
Practice was quiet today: The British Director, Returning Guy, and a new person who is just learning Ashtanga. Another Bikramite. Volleyball Guy always is enticing Bikramites to check out Ashtanga. She did well.
Right from the get-go my hamstring was shaky. First uttanasana: ow! ow! ow! Ah, I remember the days when uttanasana was just a nice stretch. Now it's a tester pose. I bend forward and my right leg straightens and my left knee bends. It's kinda jazzy, but not really what I'm after.
And the fact that I didn't practice on Wednesday, followed by a Moon Day on Thursday, didn't help. Why no Wednesday practice? The Cop found a muscle car that he wanted, and traded his rock-crawler Jeep for it. The catch? It was in Farmington, New Mexico. Which meant we left our house at 4:30 Wednesday morning with the Jeep being towed behind, and returned at 10:30 PM with a 1969 GTO. I hate car rides. The Cop kept calling it our "adventure." Actually, it was really interesting to drive through the northern reservation lands. Beautiful and stark and undeveloped. Astounding landscapes. A nightmare, though, to sit still for 7 hours out and 7 hours back. Oh, I worked the baddha konasana as much as I could, which was a good use of my time, but still... That's too long for humans to drive.
And then Thursday was a Moon Day. So this morning I was stuffy and stiff. One of those practices where pain is a constant companion. It was very cool, though, when Volleyball Guy adjusted me in prasarita C. He counted the usual five breaths, and then said "Two more." Uh, okay, I was thinking. This is a little unusual. He counts really slowly in adjustments, and I'd been giving it my all, so I wasn't sure why the extra breaths, and I thought a moment about how dorky I was going to be trying to come back up to standing. I just totally surrender in these adjustments. No idea where up or down is, etc. So a wobbly dismount is not unheard of. Anyhow, then I hear him saying, "Extend your little fingers toward the floor." Of course, at this point, I have no idea in which direction the floor lies. So I just push a bit more into my shoulders and unhook my little fingers from the clasp of my hands, and sure enough, my fingers touch the floor. I had no idea I was that close. What a nice surprise!
These days, I have this idea that my hamstring pain is actually more about the iliotibial band. Usually iliotibial problems manifest in the knee, but apparently it can cause some issues at the hip. The reason I'm thinking the iliotibial band might be the source of my pain is because stretching it feels both fabulous and excruciating in equal measure. This is my version of hard science. You can read all about it in my newest article, coming out in next month's issue of "Naive Science Journal." God's honest truth is that I have no idea what's going on with all this stuff, and I'm not even sure why I make up little stories in my head about what it can be.
Here is a picture My Gift took at the wedding. It's of Sokai's socks. My Gift was thrilled to find he had Disney socks on with his ornate robes. Apparently there is a Mickey Mouse on the ankle, but she couldn't get a clear shot of it when he was bowing.
Helpful hint: If you need to practice with a hangover, make it a sake hangover. I'm not advocating hungover Ashtanga, but we did have sake at the ceremony yesterday, and I had to drink almost all of it, because The Cop is not a sake fan. The tradition is to have the groom take a sip from the cup, then the bride, then the groom. That's round one. Round two goes bride-groom-bride. And round three (at this point, apparently, The Frenchman leaned over to My Gift and asked, "How much are they going to drink?!" and The Cop leaned over to me and said, "I feel all warm and tingly inside") goes groom-bride-groom. Being a good helper, I did the bulk of the drinking. And then there was more sake at the sushi place we went to for the post-ceremony celebration.
So practice this morning included seeing stars and feeling dread about the handstands after utkatasana and navasana, and especially the handstand after eka pada bakasana, which isn't really a handstand so much as Volleyball Guy heaving my dead weight into the air. Eka pada bakasana is too asymmetrical for me to figure out the handstand part. This morning I realized I've kind of given up on trying to work this transition. Mostly I just spend my time dreading its approach and hoping that Volleyball Guy will be off looking after someone else when I get to it. Uncannily, though, he never misses it! I must get on the ball, and try to work this out on my own at home. It's unfair to expect him to pick me up every morning. I wonder if he thinks about that, too ;-)
Okay, so sake is a good hangover. It all stays in your head. No stomach repercussions. File that info away in case you ever need it.
Why did I even go to yoga early in the morning of the day after my wedding? That's the question normal people ask. But it was quite simple: my energy was all dispersed from the lovely day we had yesterday. It was like all my boundaries had dissolved. Which was perfect for a day of pledging to love The Cop forever. But I kind of had to gather it all back up again so I could get back to regular life.
I worked my way through practice and got the bind on both marichy Ds again. It is astoundingly ugly on the outside, but very satisfying on the inside ;-) I have plenty of time to make it better. For kurmasana, Volleyball Guy tucked sandbags under my feet. I was pretty passive: I think the current hamstring pain was likely caused by my enthusiastic heel lifting--so I didn't even try to pick them up today.
All in all, a nice practice.
And to return to wedding thoughts: it's been interesting to note how many people have "admitted" to me that they had small weddings that they loved. It's as if it's something you have to keep secret--that you didn't go along with the usual program. It's been quite delightful hearing people's stories about how they had intimate weddings. Everyone seems to feel like they were very selfish--but they knew it was important, and what they really wanted.
And to share a little gift with you all, here's the URL of my current favorite blogger, Mimi Smartypants. She is a terrific writer, hysterically funny, and has the best stories about her little girl, Nora.
Today The Cop and I were married at the zendo. Beautiful ceremony. Much happiness. We lit incense (the picture above), took vows, shared sake, exchanged rings, and promised to help each other attain enlightenment. Sokai, abbot of the zendo, officiated. As an added bonus, the yard of the zendo was full of hummingbirds and I saw my first goldfinches.
My Gift and The Frenchman joined us, and it was a lovely afternoon for all.
This morning, for the first time, I managed to bind both sides of marichy D on my own. It wasn't pretty, but there you have it. I then moved through the vinyasa and sat myself on my mat, enjoying the moment.
Volleyball Guy came over, looked at me, and said, "Uh, navasana?"
I told him about what had just happened.
"So you're having a little celebration?" he asked. I nodded.
"C'mon," he said, prompting the end of my party. "Navasana."
So he spotted me for my handstands, then came back for supta kurmasana. He grabbed my crossed feet and pulled them up so my core could fall under my legs more. Yay for gravity!
As most of us were nearing the end of practice, he turned on a CD. Aretha Franklin singing "R-E-S-P-E-C-T." Much laughter ensued.
REW's post today reminded me of not knowing. It's a prized state in zen: I remember how happy I was that the answer "Don't know" was acceptable, even correct, in many zen koan interviews.
I have a sign up in my office that reads: "Stop thinking so much. Life isn't that simple."
Somehow these things are all related.
We are so pressured to know. To be experts. To always understand. To figure things out. To be authorities. To know what we want, what we think, what we feel, what we need. To know WHO we are (Very important! LOL!). To judge right and wrong, good and bad, like and don't like. Whew! It's exhausting.
This morning at Mysore practice, Volleyball Guy, who has been adjusting me with great care (so as not to hurt my left hamstring), finally asked me about it in words. Yup, he's been dealing with it for two days without ever having heard about it from me or talked about it with me. He could just see what was going on and responded accordingly.
At the end of practice, as I'm rolling up my mat, he says, "Your hamstring. On a scale of one to ten?" And I realize he's asking about pain, and I realize I still don't understand what I am feeling, or even if it's an injury at all, and I say, "I don't know." A couple of people laughed, and then someone said something else, so that was the end of our conversation. I wondered afterwards if he thought I was being evasive or perhaps just entirely out of touch with reality ;-) and for a second I felt like a dope for not knowing. For not being able to make something up to suit the question. But in the end I'm better off just being honest with my teacher, even if it makes me seem like a total dork.
What is my hamstring, on a scale of one to ten? I'll see you tomorrow at practice.
Equanimity. Practicing and trying to be present. Trying not to compare today's practice with some "ideal" practice I imagine for myself.
The hamstring is reminding me of my knee. I have to stay present and yet not overly-focused. It's interesting, too, because I am accustomed to the familiar gestalt of my own practice, my own coordination and kinesthetic sensibility, and when one link in the chain is different, the whole gestalt shifts slightly.
This shift has ramifications for the meditative aspect of practice. I am not sure, quite, how to think about it. On the one hand, I can usually be absorbed into my breath and just go. But when there is an injury...um, I mean, opening...it seems to indicate that that absorption into breath and drishti might actually be at the expense of attention to the body. Am I letting go of the physical when I practice, or am I just ignoring it?
Ah well, we'll find out eventually. In the meantime, I practiced this morning with a particular delight in each urdhva mukha svanasana. And it seems like an antidote to the compression that I've been feeling in my collarbones from supta kurmasana. Which I didn't do today. Nope. I practiced slowly and methodically to kurmasana, at which point my hamstring seemed to indicate that THIS was my downfall. Oh yeah, that business of cranking my hamstrings to get my heels off the floor. My new, fun trick.
I can't help wondering how it would have been different, if I had been more thoughtful, and perhaps less inclined to press my forehead to the floor and go "Fire hamstrings!" to get my heels up. Sigh.
Still, it was a good practice this morning. At the end, in savasana, the birds were singing and the morning light through the window was warm and cheery. I love morning. My Gift and I make the rounds in the back yard, looking at the roses and the bougainvillea and the hibiscus. The cat likes to come too, but he's in it for the birds.
Before I forget: I was very interested, when watching John Scott's DVD, to note that when he does utkatasana in surya B, he's doing a squat so low that his thighs touch his calves. At least that's how I'm remembering it. Granted, it was Saturday night and I was having a drink while I watched. God, I really do have an Ashtanga problem ;-)
My problem this morning was my left hamstring. It is very strange: I am still not sure if this is really an injury. It may just be an "opening." Please tell me the concept of opening isn't just a sham...
So here's the deal: Monday morning Mysore. First surya and I notice my left hamstring feels achey and like it's shorter than the right hamstring. Okay, this isn't too unusual, and it generally works itself out by the end of the suryas. Not today, though. I had this persistent, distracting feeling that something was awry with the hamstring, though it wasn't a sharp pain or anything like that. It just felt "off." My mode of responding to pain is to proceed, so I worked my way through the trikonasanas and parsvakonasanas, though I never really settled into it --my mind just kept telling me I felt weird.
The real fun started at the prasaritas, where the achey feeling actually made me feel really nauseous. Cold sweats and everything. Strangely, though, no really distinct pain. And, since my mode of responding to nausea and cold sweats is to proceed, I continued on. LOL! Yes, it's funny in retrospect.
I limped through the first half of primary, after deciding that I would accept that my hamstring wasn't going to come around, and that I could spend my energy putting some effort into my urdhva mukha svanasanas (John Scott does an inspiring urdhva mukha svanasana in each vinyasa, and I've caught the fever ;-) Super lame poses on the left side, totally distracted mind--ah, but lovely upward-facing dogs...LOL!
I gave up at navasana. Volleyball Guy came over and rubbed my hamstring for a bit, then set me up to do paschimottansana on two sandbags so that they could dig into my hamstring inserts. Mmmmmm. That feels good. No, it hurts. No, it feels pretty good. No! It hurts! Thus went my internal monolog. Clearly this is a kind of pain I don't know how to qualify. I really think it is just the playing out of an imbalance I know I have in my hips. It's been there for ages, as a result of a number of sports injuries on the left side of my body. When I first started Ashtanga, I grew increasingly aware of the imbalance, which had, over the years, just come to seem normal to me. So now I am (as Randy Jackson would say) workin' it out, dawg.
Or maybe I'm injured. Who the heck knows. Volleyball Guy is being kind, I feel bewildered, but also pretty patient about it, and in the end, I can have vastly improved urdhva mukha svanasanas.
Of course, how can you not be cool with an accent like that? And the incantatory Sanskrit counting...what a trip. He manages to do the Sanskrit count, explain the movement, and indicate the exhale or inhale--all while executing the move. Very impressive.
Watching DVDs always reminds me of what an experiential thing Ashtanga is. Something about being in a room with other people practicing (whether led or Mysore) just can't be reproduced.
John Scott's got some serious Michael Jordan hang time going on. It cracks me up as he's jumping back or jumping through and he says, "Find the balance point" as he gracefully hovers. LOL! Yeah, uh, my experiments with the physical laws kind of indicate that the balance point is something that I go flying through and past, just before I crash.
Teaching is such an interesting thing, whether in person or on DVD. My job is in instructional technology--essentially I spend my time figuring out how to design instruction so it will be effective. Obviously there are many ways to teach people things: from the highest-tech online multi-media extravaganzas, to the lowest-tech "Hey, look at what I'm doing" teachings where you show a kid how to tie her shoes. It's funny, because in my professional life, we are always trying to push the envelope with technology. That's the nature of technical training, of course--how can you train the most people in the shortest amount of time? But my favorite real-life learnings have always come from the direct coaching method: tae kwon do, zazen, rock climbing, Ashtanga. You have your teacher and you have your own motivation and you have physical laws and emotional responses and spiritual realms.
Your teacher shows you, and you try it, and then you trust that the process--the teaching--will take over and you will learn something greater than the sum of all the parts.
This just made me think of a koan:
Master Seong Am Eon used to call to himself every day, "Master!" and would answer, "Yes?" "You must keep clear!" "Yes!" "Never be deceived by others, any day, any time!" "Yes! Yes!"
LOL! Okay. So there is a koan that reminds me of teachers, and of the balance point. I have to laugh at myself as I go crashing past, again and again.
I wasn't kidding about really hydrating for practice today. Saturday led is packed these days, and the weather has been in the 90s here in the desert. Along with windstorms, which means an unbelievable amount of pollen in the air and in the pool, but that is another story. Last night I had the bright idea of drinking water until my stomach hurt. Well, the idea was to drink lots of water; the stomach ache was an outcome, but not part of the original plan. Small price to pay, though, all in all. And to really seal the deal on my hydration, I ate a bunch of olives. Mmmmmmm. And The Cop and I discussed canoli. He's never had one. Unbelievable. The only thing that would have made my hydration routine more sucessful would have been to eat a canoli. My Mom thinks my eastern religion and yoga practice are weird, weird, weird, but she would have been proud of my Italian hydration system.
It worked, too. I wasn't shaky or on the verge of blackout at all this morning. Well, except for coming up from ardha baddha padmottanasana, but that's par for the course. I felt pretty strong and kind of weirdly puffy--from all the water and salt in my system, I imagine. But it was one of those lovely practices where you feel alert and bendy and relaxed--all the way through. I still get a little tense in the bhujapidasana through supta kurmasana part of the sequence, but not so bad today.
But the real fun was when we got to navasana. Volleyball Guy goes around on each navasana and spots people so we can go up into handstand in between. I was spotted on navasana 2. Ah yes, it felt so good to get up there, and then I was all focused on feeling that little lock in my core that I felt the day before. Yes, very good to reinforce that muscle memory...uh, what's that? Oh yeah, it's Volleyball Guy saying, "Karen, everyone's waiting for you." Oh boy--everyone else had done their lolasanas and gone back into navasana and waited and waited and waited, and there I was upside down and musing about bandhas. Sorry, everyone! Isn't yoga lovely--how it offers you a chance to be a big klutz in the midst of a crowd of people? [My original posting used the word "spaz" instead of "klutz." I was just reading, though, of some problems Tiger Woods ran into after describing his recent golf game using that term, which is, apparently, quite derogatory in the UK. Sorry to anyone who read the original post and was offended. It's a pretty innocuous term here in the US.]
Another quiet evening slated for me: The Cop is getting ready for work, My Gift comes back from San Fran tomorrow. I have a movie all ready to go: John Scott's primary DVD, lent to me by Crim Girl in class this morning. I love watching different teacher's DVDs. It's so interesting to see how different people teach the same poses. Is it strange to sit and watch yoga DVDs for pleasure? LOL! I think I have an Ashtanga problem.
And I know I have a blog problem: I love reading them. Here's a good one written by a waiter in NYC. About the ups and downs of working in the food service industry. Check it out: http://www.waiterrant.net/The article he refers to in his entry is really interesting, too.
Mysore this morning at the Starbucks Studio. We have new folks there, which is the upside to having a larger space. Nice to see some new people. And the usual folks are also there: this morning there was Sanskrit Scholar, The British Director, Returning Guy, The Beautiful One--who will now be known as Crim Girl since she revealed her evil nature via recent comments on this blog--and The Other Dave.
I was practicing directly across from The Other Dave this morning, and it was quite amusing, because we were pretty much in exactly the same place in our practices for the duration. Lots of people put their faces on their shins during the seated poses, but not The Other Dave, and not me. Which means I could kind of see the blur of him just past my toes as we went along. When we were at ardha baddha padma paschimottansana I heard him say, "Hey Karen, try moving your lotus knee closer to the extended leg," (or, as they would say in Anusara, "closer to the midline"). Uh, okay, I did. "How's that?" he asked, nodding. Oh yeah, that makes it hurt more. Thanks, Dave! ;-)
Practice was steady and enjoyable, except for whatever is happening in my left hamstring. It definitely hurts, and I wonder periodically if it's going to snap or something, but so far it's been hanging in there. Then I was mildly distracted by a clanking sound coming from a new practitioner. I think it might have been big jewelry of some sort, but seeing as I was practicing drishti, how can I possibly know?
I love the idea that I can practice drishti and that that automatically rules out all sorts of visual distractions. Sure, my mind thinks about what that noise can possibly be, but then I have to just accept that I'm not going to know, and move on. It reminds me of some stuff I was reading at work about wu wei. This is a Taoist principle...oh, I'll just link you to something to see for yourself. I was in serious need of a wu wei pep talk at work this week, because everyone in the darned organization thinks about every question and every detail of any and every possible thing that can or ever will happen in all departments at all times. It's exhausting and basically just a bad habit. The plain old fact of the matter is that we don't always need to know every last thing. Geez. A little elegant not-knowing, people! Anyhow, drishti enforces a kind of not-knowing/not-doing that is most refreshing, and I really enjoy it.
Much as I enjoyed handstands today. Volleyball Guy, when spotting me, kind of grabbed my hip bones and shook me slightly. It made me snap "closed" a little bit--like a jackknife. Usually I have a lot of arch in my back--too much backbend. His shaking made me kind of reduce the angle made by my torso and my legs, an angle which is usually greater than 180 degrees. To stabilize myself against the shake, I closed the angle slightly, and locked my core. Yeah, I said "locked," and yes, I know, like a bandha. I know, I know, this is something that should have been apparent all along. But I don't learn until I actually experience things.
Like how ignoring ladies holiday and practicing makes me feel terrible. Yeah, that's an ongoing lesson. And maybe tomorrow I will try drinking something during led class. I haven't learned that lesson the hard way. Yet. This inability to take a lesson is why I am never too sad when I can't do something, and never too happy when I can. Who knows how long my understanding will last on any given topic? I may totally blow handstands tomorrow, after my great epiphany this morning :-)
The Cop is preparing for night shift, and My Gift is having a few days up in San Francisco. A quiet night for me. Rest, reading, and lots of hydrating in anticipation of class tomorrow. But not with chai, Crim Girl, not with chai.
At the zendo on Sunday there was a new monk, sent by Roshi to practice at our zendo and to learn rolfing from Philosophy Monk. He said a few words after zazen, and asked the very evocative question: How do you disappear?
As with most koans, this question has a number of resonances for me: there is an ongoing tension at work over some basic strategy and vision issues. Basically I see one thing and one of my colleagues sees another. Of course it gets polarized and of course I get trapped in it. So the question, How do you disappear? has some interesting implications for me.
I was late getting to the zendo because The Cop got in late from night shift and wanted to talk a bit about a fatal accident he responded to. Transitions from life to death always affect me, so I had those feelings inside me when New Monk asked the question. Zen masters always tell practitioners to work hard, all the time, to reach enlightenment, because you never know how long your opportunity will be.
Once, on the third afternoon of a retreat, when everyone was tired tired tired, Philosophy Monk suddenly shouted really loudly, "Wake up!" It scared the heck out of me. And then I went back to being exhausted. Bad zen lady. He was compassionate in his action, but I didn't take him up on it.
So I continue to muddle along. That said, sitting practice feels so easy. I will curse myself for saying that, no doubt, when it changes. But for now, sitting is a delight. Thanks to Ashtanga. Sitting Burmese style for two 25 minute sessions is pretty much like...oh, maybe a 40 breath kurmasana that you actually enjoy. LOL! Funny to try to figure out the exchange rate.
This morning was back to Mysore practice. Volleyball Guy, in his own zen wisdom, gave me a super-adjustment in marichy C. Like, an Exorcist-strength adjustment. And then, during marichy D, which is what I am a little over-focused on recently, he just stood there and talked about the pose in relation to me as an individual (versus about me in relation to the pose). And then I got my heels up off the floor in kurmasana. Kinda without even trying. Mostly because I wasn't thinking about it. Good zen lady.
Practice, practice, practice, and maybe one day I will disappear and wake up.
I had my butt handed to me at led this morning. No idea why, but it was quite a struggle. Hot as hell, of course. (Apologies to everyone who practices in a cold environment--I know my complaints about heat probably seem lame.) I guess it's summer again in the desert. Mid 80s today, though way warmer in the studio. I practiced between The Beautiful One and The Dancer, and I was across from Sanskrit Scholar. Good company, for sure. The Beautiful One caught my eye a couple of times during practice and grimaced in response to the heat. Made me feel a little better--at least it wasn't just me.
At led, Volleyball Guy usually goes around the room, doing adjustments one by one. He got to me at marichy A. I love marichy A adjustments. I can bind it up just fine and put my head on my shin, but I really like the extra push. Admittedly, I really covet adjustments in marichy D, supta kurmasana and baddha konasana, but what the heck--the universe is probably dishing out just what I need. I wonder if teachers feel like marichy D, supta K and baddha K adjustments are the special ones that they give out to whoever they like best on any given day. LOL! I guess those adjustments can be seen as both gifts and punishments ;-)
I thought a little bit this morning about pain and practice. I had my right knee injury a while back--and that was a real injury, involving a pop and pretty bad pain. But everything I feel now can really be interpreted as "opening" pains: the left hip and knee, the collarbones. It's all about my body kind of coming undone, letting go of all of the physical habits and imbalances I've taken on over the years.
Someone on EZboard made a comment about getting weaker as they get more flexible, and I am feeling something along those lines these days in relation to my shoulders. They are...well, I guess they are opening ;-) which means there is a lot more articulation, a lot more range of motion. But at the same time, I seem to not have as much strength. My handstands are pretty darned shaky, and I even notice a shakiness in sirsasana. I think my whole shoulder girdle used to move in one block--and now that it is all loosening up, I am kind of spazzing out. I imagine it'll all re-coordinate in time.
After practice, My Gift and I went to the mall (yuck!) so she could get prom jewelry. I felt pretty lousy the whole time, just totally drained. Kind of a bummer, because I wanted to spend some quality time with her, but just felt crappy. Maybe watching the electrolytes a bit might be helpful as summer wears on. I kind of imagine those scenarios where the person is crawling in the desert, looking for water. Someone at practice today (I'll keep her identity a secret, since she is a criminal) had a container she sipped from occasionally. "What are you drinking?" I asked her after class. Her reply? "Chai." Bad lady. I was so jealous!
I wonder how crim hydration during practice is. How have I managed to come to a point where my greatest transgressions can include things like skipping moon days or drinking liquids during yoga? LOL! Guess I'm just not the rebel I used to be.
Actually, I didn't swear. The Cop did. I am dying to bring him to class, because he knows enough to get through either a led class or even a Mysore practice, and I think he'd really enjoy it. But geez, he's going to have to cut back on the swearing during poses. It's a riot to me, but perhaps not as amusing to the more yogic.
That said, we had a nice little practice this morning. Both of us are running on low, due to colds, but we made a good effort. It is lovely to practice with him: he does not ask a lot of questions, but just keeps an eye on what I'm doing and follows suit. And swears occasionally ;-) Utthita hasta padanguthasana is a particular bane. I am eager to get him to class, in part because he needs to see how people like him (i.e., tall men with long legs and a higher center of gravity) do some of these poses. I'm a short gal with short legs and a low center of gravity. Obviously the mechanics are rather different.
In the meantime, My Gift and The Frenchman attended a basics class at The Juicy Studio where she works. When they got back, I asked what he thought of it. His reply? "Apparently I have very good toes." His favorite pose? "That one at the end." (Savasana.)
There's something so cool about seeing people at the beginning of their practice. It inevitably transforms, but you never know how. It eludes ambition and desire and all expectations. Practice will always give you exactly what you need, and it will always be more than you could ever have wished for or even imagined. It's the best. I swear ;-)
There were cars in the parking lot when I got to practice at the new place this morning. Unlike last week, when I was a week early...
Already a bunch of folks in the midst of their suryas. The usual suspects and a few new faces. It was weird to be in a new space--the light felt a little bright and whereas at Volleyball Guy's place we were so packed in that your drishti got really close, at the Starbucks of Yoga Studio there is enough room that folks spread out and you can see people all the way across the room from you.
Plus the room is round--yes, a cylindrical room. I pretty much hate it, because I can't orient myself in space (it's weird how much we expect rooms to be rectangular), and because it is painted white, so basically, it's like floating in space. Sheesh. I'm sure I'll get over myself and get used to it. After all, I had a heck of a time at first in the yoga room here in my house: I would flip over in the prasaritas and kind of get vertigo from the vaulted ceiling. I always feel like I am hanging in there, drishti-wise, but apparently there is a split second where I orient myself kinesthetically by looking at the floor or the ceiling. Maybe with lots of practice that will go away. Maybe I will be able to let go of my attachment to up and down and give up that sort of control. In the past, I've gotten so relaxed in ardha baddha padmottansana that I start to fall forward. Luckily, the pain of first a right and now a left knee injury keep me from getting too cozy these days and rolling over ;-)
So the room was warm and the practice was good. A nice deep hanumanasana, which is kind of funny, because I haven't been practicing hanumansana and samakonasana at home--it's been a once-a-week-when-I-have-to-at-Saturday-led kind of thing.
Scary adjustment in the forward bending part of samakonasana (no idea what that's called...), which is always exciting. My leg was shaking uncontrollably and I suddenly had this urge to do a fake yelp to see how fast Volleyball Guy would jump up. LOL! No, I didn't do it, but I think it's funny that I was inventing a little joke even as my nervous system was rebelling. That can only be a good thing.
Volleyball Guy gathered us all together as The Other Dave, who was first to get to closing poses, was finishing up. Everyone into padmasana to chant the Mangala Mantra and Om Shanti, in honor of our new beginning in a new space.
