Back to it

Ah, back to Mysore practice! I was so happy to go to practice this morning. Returning Guy was there, and Sanskrit Scholar, and Chanting Man with his daughter The Cat, and The Other Dave. And the Bikram gal from last week, who brought along another Bikram friend. Apparently Volleyball Guy is an evangelist of Ashtanga. And he works the Bikram beat :-)

I couldn't breathe worth a darn, which actually was an interesting lesson. My mind was all over the place, and I couldn't really settle into meditation, because my breathing was so ragged. Of course I know the mantra: breath, bandhas, drishti--but I never really understood how integrated it all is; how it really rides the breath. So I coughed and sputtered and breathed as much as I could through my nose, and did some mouth breathing, as necessary. All of that sounds quite awful, but my cold is actually a lot better.

I had a quick word with Returning Guy as we walked into the studio, and I smiled at Sanskrit Scholar as I was leaving. Bummer, not going to Saturday led. Those 15 minutes before class starts, when everyone is just sitting around chatting, is the only time I get to talk to the people I practice with. It's funny, how we're all so close, but we hardly ever talk to each other.

Yesterday, I spent the day at my company's conference in Anaheim. At lunch, a bunch of high-powered compensation professionals at my table were chatting about the industry, trends, gaffes--Enron, and all that kind of stuff. I know enough to participate in the conversations, and even enjoy them a bit, but I couldn't help thinking that I wished I was having lunch with the Mysorites and we were talking about yoga. Then I remembered that we actually don't talk to each other all that much--we practice together. It's an interesting kind of collaboration or conversation. My relationship to them feels like the kind you have with people you talk to all the time, about everything. But we really don't. At least not in words.