Shockra

It’s strange to be writing this at this moment: we’re at the end of a sort of feline hospice care for my eldest cat, Jack. He’s sixteen, and has been an excellent friend to me for all of my adult life. He’s been a great judge of character, and he’s loved Matthew from the very start. It breaks my heart to be losing him, but we’ve had a long life together. I can’t complain, but I’d still gladly keep him around for another 16 years.

My practice has been heavily focused on the more cerebral aspects of yoga. I’m in the middle of taking Part One of my Yoga Teacher Training test, and it’s extensive. I’ve been spending a lot of time immersed in philosophy, and it’s helped keep perspective on our last days with Jack. We nearly lost him at the end of May. We managed to eke out six pretty good months with our dear, furry friend.

It’s been a hard year in our house: we lost Mau in September, and it would be cruelty to ask Jack to stick around much longer.  I’m tired of hurting, but I’m glad to have loved.

It’s weird, but when I’m teaching lately, I haven’t been playing music.  Those of you who used to take Vinyasa classes with me may have keeled over in shock at this statement, but with theming and the precise instruction we tend toward in classes following an Anusara format, a wicked groove behind me tends to make brainsmoothie of all the things I’m trying to convey.  Also, if a song’s particularly good, my mind may be on yoga, but my butt thinks it’s at a nightclub.  Full Disclosure: If you’re playing good music in class when I’m there, fully expect to see my downward dog positively wagging.

When I’m at home, it’s a different ballgame. I only have a passive interest in playing/making music, but music holds my life together in all the same ways yoga keeps me whole.  I will practice to all kinds of music, but there are a few albums that are on permanent rotation in the iPod specifically for yoga-ing.

• Anant Jesse, Mantrica
• Jon Mark, The Standing Stones of Callanish
• David Newman, Leap of Grace: The Hanuman Chalisa
• BT, Emotional Technology
• The Killers, Hot Fuss
• Kate Bush, The Whole Story (I can’t choose)
• Anything from Buddha Bar series or Afro Celt Sound System
• Anna Nalick, Wreck of the Day
• Peter Gabriel, Last Temptation of Christ soundtrack
• Kama Sutra soundtrack
• plenty of stuff from www.bootieusa.com: It wags the (downward) dog.

Oh, and right now? I’m off to practice to DJ Magnet’s Love Comes Running Up That Hill Quickly, a mashup of Placebo, Kate Bush and Pet Shop Boys.

Bonus: here’s tonight’s playlist. Enjoy! What’s Rockin’ My Dog

What music’s fueling your home practice?

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

No one really thinks to mention one of said hundreds of ways is actually going over backwards, but it’s true.

My asana practice has felt bogged down of late. I’ve had some nasty long-term flares in my ankles that make many strong standing poses veryˆuncomfortable (but I continue to practice them mindfully, with my doc’s blessing), and that makes everything feel one-step forward, three steps back.

Wednesday was more of the same. I went to my gal Tara’s class and my sacroiliac was jostling rudely, making my lunges weak and shaky.  My wrists were swollen and complained in Downward Dog.  When I set up for Handstand at the wall, I was prepared for another long evening of kicking up and never quite making it to the wall.  Handstand is one of those nemesis poses for me: I always feel tungsten-heavy, clumsy and earthbound. I’ve used Less Rosie Cotton, More Elf Queen as a sort of personal mantra when we practice Handstand.

When my right foot hit the wall, it was so startling, I fell out of the pose immediately.  It took me a few seconds to grasp what happened, and that’s when I started jumping up and down like I’d won the lottery.  I couldn’t replicate it Wednesday, but I know I’m capable of it, and have made insane progress.  I just need to start thinking about the wall the way martial artists think about boards when they’re learning to break them: If you just think about hitting the board (instead of hitting the space past the board) you’ll never break it. I hope the wall can handle my new technique.

Our apex pose was Ustrasana (Camel Pose).  We worked with partners, and I always enjoy working with Jaclyn.  She has overwhelming confidence and enthusiasm, and her practice is inspiring and athletic.  In the middle of my backbend, Tara came over and had me reach overhead to press my arms strongly into her hands as i lifted my chest and continued to arc backwards. In intense poses, the room and its clamor starts to fall away and all I could hear was the wooshwoosh of my pulse and breathing, and Tara and Jaclyn reminding me to soften or hug in (sometimes both). I remember blinking and realizing I was looking at Tara’s knees.  Then I realized I was looking at Tara’s knees as she knelt on my mat. I somehow kept breathing, and kept curling back. For the first time in ages, I didn’t have any pain in my back or neck.

This is when I asked someone to get their cameraphone, because I wanted Matthew to see what I’d been doing when I had died. Everyone laughed, and my back released everything and my head suddenly and effortlessly shot toward the floor. This wasn’t Camel anymore, if anything, it was creeping more toward King Mo-fo Pigeon.

I don’t remember coming out of the pose, but when I did, I was having all kinds of strange, euphoric aftershocks. In yoga, we call them kriya, but I think modern science calls them symptoms of minor shock. I felt kinda in love with the world and everything for hours afterward, so I heartily recommend strong backbends in lieu of raving.

More than anything, it reminds me that even when I feel ridiculous, ungainly and unworthy, my practice is growing and changing me. It reminds me that even when I feel shortest on the shortbus, lowest of the low; I still have a right to be here.

It’s been ages since I’ve wrote, and I have so much to tell you! One of the main reasons I’ve been quiet is that I’ve been preparing to teach a regular weekly class.  After (almost) completing my practicum and subbing for staff members, I’ve been hired on at Butterfly Yoga.

Sundays, 4pm-5:15pm, starting August 24th
Buddha Body, Yoga Mind:
Any body can find grace, strength and beauty in yoga, regardless of size or physical limitations. Buddha Body, Yoga Mind is a slow-paced class geared towards the plus-sized practitioner, with modifications and props for bodies of varying strength and flexibility.

I think it’s going to be very helpful: many people who would benefit from yoga are often intimidated in a traditional class setting because of previous less-than-positive experiences.  Some people of any size or ability are just uncomfortable in a classroom of lithe practitioners and gravity-defying instructors; even in a supportive and inclusive environment like Butterfly.

It’s exciting to teach again, and it’s more fun because there’s the added benefit of having a co-teacher/apprentice of sorts.

Rissa (pronounced REEsa) is an accomplished yogini in her own right.  She has always felt the urge to teach, but hasn’t been through a teacher training program (YET!)  I am poring through seven years of notes to pass on knowledge I’ve gleaned.  I’m enjoying the questions she asks, and everything I’m learning from her own experiences with her practice.

The further I progress in my studies (and I’m coming up on 400 hours of teacher trainings alone), I find myself feeling humbled by both the information I’ve amassed, but also how much knowledge I still have yet to gain.  I learn something new every time I practice, and I glean so much from students.

Butterfly’s Class Schedule

Just a quick note: I’ll be teaching a noon-time Level I class this upcoming Thursday, May 8th. I already have a theme prepared and a class half-formed in my head.  I’ve been thinking I wasn’t ready to teach yet, but now that I know I’ll have to, I realize I’ve been crafting practices in the back of my mind.

Lots of water + MORE YOGA.

The cure for soreness after yoga + water + more yoga = still more yoga so you can make it through class on Monday.

I’ve had two classes with Tara this week, and it’s been really interesting watching her teaching style evolve over the last few months.  Her teaching style has become more vibrant, more honed, more her. It’s a beautiful thing to watch someone hit their stride.

The entire studio’s been Ardha Chandrasana-happy this week, which has been excruciating and wonderful.  Before I started experiencing the muscle fatigue and general wobbliness of fibromyalgia, Half Moon was one of my favorite poses.  I’m finally getting comfortable in the pose again, where I can play with the balance and torque in the torso without the ever-present panic about my strength.  My joints are verging on hypermobile, so my real work has been cultivating muscular energy/strength/stamina.  I was really surprised to see my Pinchu Mayurasana (Peacock Feather) has evolved into something actually resembling Pinchu (as opposed to a sad hydraulic deflation through the shoulders), and I’m achieving measurable air-time in Headstand.  My current work is really stabilizing my pelvis. I’ve been having sacroiliac madness again, and the weakness/strangeness in those muscles has been making any high lunge (esp with the left knee in front) feel dangerously unstable.

It’s also been interesting practicing while the tattoo is in various stages of healing…  I’m looking forward to the shoulder cap being healed, as it tightens when I practice Downward Dog.  I’m having to wear shirts inside out so that the seams don’t irritate the slowest-healing bits, and to keep it clean instead of on walls, floors, mats and blankets.  Savasana is currently more comfortable with my arms overhead instead of shoulders curled under the back, with delicate new skin firmly pressed into the floor.

Reason #454 to love my yoga teacher

Workshop description from the studio newsletter:

Eye of the Tiger is a strong practice for intermediate/advanced students to light your inner fire and cultivate your will to manifest your heart’s deepest desires. As we bring meaning and intention to our practice, we can create deep transformation and let go of self-limiting concepts and ideas so we can manifest the life we love.

This is the inspiring photo she included:

Am I in the right place, or what!!?

I was so focused on my triumph with Urdhva Dhanurasana that I forgot to post more about my weekend with Betsey Downing . . .

The theme of the weekend was Living With Virtuosity, about skillfully forging our thoughts, words, and practice to play to our best nature. I made a promise to myself before the workshop that I was not going to treat my body poorly, which sounds easier in word than it is in action. When you get a chance to study with someone brilliant, you want to absorb every molecule of their presence. A good teacher will leave you wanting to work hard for the work’s sake, and the exhilaration and adrenaline can leave you overtaxed. This time, I was very respectful of my energy levels, and overall, I learned more taking rapid-fire notes while Betsey led them through pose after improbable pose than I would unmindfully trying to force a pose.

Throughout the entire weekend, we hammered the theme, and it got me thinking about stewardship of one’s practice. A yoga teacher is a guide who can offer great insight on form, or introduce you to a philosophical concepts, but you are ultimately the captain of your proverbial Nav(asana.) A teacher can teach you alignment and direct you, but you’re the one who knows if you’re pushing too hard/too fast on your boundaries. Betsey related a great quote: If you argue with reality, you will lose… but only 100% of the time.

The biggest step for me, even bigger than my breakthrough with Urdhva Dhanurasana, was before the workshop even began. When Betsey was going around asking about injuries/etc., I did not tell her I was sick. I felt comfortable enough in my own practice, and in my own skin, to modify or skip as necessary. No excuses, no apologies, no saying no before I even began.

Just call me Navarajni!

I participate in an online yoga community, and today, someone touched on an issue close to my heart.  She was reading B.K.S. Iyengar’s Light on Yoga and, as an atheist, she was thrown off by the constant references to devotion to God/the Lord.

I had always been under the impression that yoga was not actually a religion at all, but reading the words of Iyengar, it feels like one must at least be a theist to be truly serious. Is this the case?

This is an issue I’ve thought about quite a bit, and I felt it was important to document my response, as the subject matter is integral to how I teach and how I feel about yoga.

The foundations for classical yoga are deeply steeped in the culture/area where the tradition was founded. While some of its tenets are universal, we can honor its roots while making yoga applicable to our modern lives. Various people of many different faiths practice yoga, and look at the yamas/niyamas through the lens of their faith. I think it is incredibly appropriate–maybe even crucial–for you to look at them through the lens of your own ethics and philosophy (equally as powerful as faith), and decide what those ancient concepts mean to you.

I’m not an atheist, but my husband absolutely is, and his perspectives from attending yoga classes have dramatically changed the way I teach. Yoga is a powerful tool for discovering the best in ourselves. I tend to teach from a perspective that yoga stretches our bodies as well as our minds, and that as we cultivate a loving, nonjudgmental relationship with our bodies and sense of self, we can take these deep lessons about kindness into our daily interactions. For some people, God in its myriad forms is an integral part of that interconnectedness, but I hardly think it’s necessary.

There is so much awe and beauty in the cosmos that there needn’t have to be anything supernatural about our relationship with and within it. The universe is freakin’ amazing, and worthy of our wonder and adoration.

My husband practices kung fu, and capturing his forms in video format has helped his practice tremendously.  Over the weekend, we got a few shots of me in various asana, and I immediately spotted 20 small things I could be doing to improve my alignment.  I think I’m going to take photos every month starting now.

Matthew: It’s not so easy for me to gauge what I do in photos.

Me: Yeah, fluidity is a big deal.  Asana can be captured in pictures.

Matthew: I think the closest thing to our arts intercepting is if I practiced Vinyasa… with murder in my heart.