Sunday 12th March 2006
This morning’s 20 minute trip into the shala for Sunday morning self practice promised to bring my tally up to a 6 day practice week which would be an exceptional achievement for me but sadly it’s not when I look at it honestly. The exceptional part is that I haven’t had even one “getting out of bed at 5am” battle this week – it’s been surprisingly easy and even a joy. But in all honesty, only 3 of the 6 practices (Mon. Tues. and Wed.) were full Primary. At Thursday’s Gallery practice I had to lead a total beginner, so that was half a practice and half a teaching session. Then on Friday I did Darrin’s led Iyengar practice which is always like slipping into my favourite old comfy clothes each week (despite lots of balancing in Handstand then dropping over to a slant board/Urdhva Dhanurasana).
This morning could have been a full Primary practice but there was not much fire in my belly so I stopped at Marichy C. In place of the fire there was a graceful, ballet like femininity, expressing itself through my movements. Grace is a beautiful thing, in all its myriad meanings:
1. Elegance and beauty of movement, form or expression.
2. A pleasing or charming quality
3. Courtesy or decency
4. A delay granted for the completion of a task or payment of a debt
5. The free and unmerited favour of God shown towards humankind
6. A short prayer of thanks
Insight from Jump Throughs
Although I stopped short at Marichy C, for the first time ever I just may have done all the jump throughs properly. I finally got the hang of how to do them without landing bum first a couple of months ago, but I haven’t been doing them consistently in practice. Yet all I needed to do was to make up my mind to do them properly, not just once or twice, but every time.
To get this happening I have to reinstate the intention every time the next jump through comes around, in that split second before the spring up from Dog Pose. At least until it becomes second nature.
Must not give in to the unconscious habit of the lazy jump through, landing cross legged on my bum before extending my legs to Dandasana.
Must not listen to that debilitating voice trying to convince me that my arms and shoulders will tire out if I do it properly every time. Sneaky sabotage.
Well I’m not buying that story any more.
I’m intent on graduating.
At that critical point bending my knees in Dog Pose and preparing to spring forward, I have to clearly and mindfully focus in that moment on what I want. See it happen. Then do it.
Empty mind…pure action.
Intention and resolve are the necessary components for breaking the old mechanical body habit of the lazy minded jump through and replacing it with the shiny, new mental machinery that spits out the correct action every time.
Only with complete mindfulness and clarity in the moment to remember my highest intention will I break the ingrained habits of my old personality.
And that little gem of an insight from the mat is transferable, off the mat and into daily life.
Ah the lessons we learn from our time on the mat.
And then there was a post-practice insight…if I hadn’t sat down with pen and paper and reflected on the practice afterwards, I wouldn’t have given one more thought to the mental reprogramming needed for the jump throughs. Nor would I have made the connection between that split second of remembering the intention, and its incredible power to cut through my unconscious pattern of thinking.
Blogging this stuff really is part of my sadhana, my way of reflecting, remembering, reinforcing, decoding, and revealing all those hidden gems of wisdom that can be so easily lost if not written down soon after. Very much like remembering dreams – if you don’t catch them while they’re still alive in your conscious mind, they slip away forever.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Saturday 11th March 2006
Vanilla
6am Friday morning.
The heady fragrance of Nag Champa incense engulfed me, then entered my bloodsteram, penetrating into my deepest crevices as I swam through the thickly scented air of the yoga studio, performing the Friday morning ritual of setting up bolster and blankets for Supta Virasana. I slid into this familiar pose in the early morning silence of the Iyengar studio, pulling the shutters down over my eyes again, cushioning the transition between the sleepy state and the class to come.
But the fragrance of my favourite incense was everywhere, heady, luscious, overpowering – and it seemed to be coming from Caroline. I politely enquired before she too settled into the blanket of Supta Virasana…to my incredulous horror it wasn’t Nag Champa. She delivered the ultimate insult to my olfactory sensibilities – it was Vanilla body spray from The Body Shop.
Vanilla!
Oh my God! No, not vanilla!
Vanilla is a scent I adore in the puffy French patisserie shops where it so reverently mingles with cinnamon, flour and pears. But the smell of vanilla emanating from humans softly shocks my sense of harmony with its stubborn saccharine stance against our body chemistry. It’s so obviously uncomfortable on alien territory.
I was gob-smacked. This vanilla perfume wafting over from my next door neighbour was stimulating my sense memory of the beautiful Nag Champa scent, reminding me of that breathtaking moment of anticipation when a new box of incense is opened and the heavy, sensual fragrance soaks straight into the fabric of my soul.
Its like unleashing a magnificent genie from an eternity in his bottle.
No way could I identify what I was smelling in the yoga studio as vanilla – it didn’t compute. I know vanilla. I bake often. Vanilla is coy and sweet. This wasn’t. This was definitely my purely beloved Nag Champa.
The scent stayed with me all day. I could smell it everywhere I went. I marvelled at its lingering potency, warm, alluring, slippery, sweet and spicy. I was obsessed.
Had it cast a spell on me like the love potion of Tristan and Iseult?
I tried to think logically…perhaps tiny globulets of the fragrance were caught in the fine hairs of my nasal passages?
That night I showered, washed my hair, and even cleaned out my nose, trying to free myself from its mysterious tentacles. I fell asleep under the spell of Nag Champa in its clever disguise as vanilla body spray.
Upon waking the next morning, the promise of indulging in this seductive scent lured me like a magnet for my first ever foray into The Body Shop. My eyes scanned the unfamiliar shelves of masquerading cosmetics before falling upon the amber liquid in its unassuming bottle. I was transfixed, so excited to see it in the flesh, this magic potion that promised to envelope me forever in a swirling veil of Nag Champa. I nervously picked it up off the shelf, paid the money and walked excitedly back to my car, sprayed it on my wrist and took a deep breath, inhaling every atomic particle of this love drug.
It was nothing like Nag Champa.
The spell was broken.
I smelled like a custard tart.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Friday 10th March 2006
Looking back, the solitary beginning of 2006 did feel unusually ominous. And not without reason. Some significant changes have been occurring over these first two months of the year which are setting up the conditions for me to focus more seriously on my spiritual practice:
- I’ve moved out of the home I’ve shared with my 24 year old son for 10 years, leaving him there to forge his independence and survival skills - this was his clever idea to help sever a not-so-healthy co-dependant mother/son dynamic. We’re both loving our newly found freedom from each other.
- I’ve moved in to my mum’s house by the beach for now, a big house that she has lived in on her own since my father died a year and a half ago. Every evening I wander along the beach with little Buffydog and give thanks for tonight’s celestial fireworks as the sun sinks into the ocean, leaving behind dying streaks of colour.
- My partner and I have separated after a 6 year relationship. The burning need for solitary space in which to pursue my practice meant something radical had to change or give way.
- I’ve returned to a more regular morning Ashtanga practice (5 days this week)
- I’ve returned to a regular evening meditation practice which is still a bit crusty but at least it’s regular.
Life had become full and busy on the outside, but this was preventing me from filling up the inside. Solitude and withdrawal from the stimulation of the outer world feels perfectly natural and almost essential right now. It seems I’ve been secretly longing for this solitude for quite a while, not as an escape from life, but as a means to delve deeper into my spiritual practice while still maintaining a thin lifeline to the world around me.
‘Recluse’: person who lives alone and avoids people (Late Latin recludere to shut away)
‘Hermit’: a person living in solitude, especially for religious reasons (Greek eremos lonely).
That’s me.
I make no apologies.
I have no regrets.
Because today I had an important insight, which has finally dispelled all traces of doubt about the path I’ve taken.
I am, in essence, on retreat.
Now this is not an easy thing to do right smack bang in the middle of city life, but it’s obvious that’s what all these little life changes are about.
Being on a real retreat is an awesome experience (I’m referring here to rigorous meditation retreats like Vipassana, not the so-called ‘retreats’ where you do 50 different new-age activities with a spa and a massage in between each one). On an authentic retreat you suspend all normal activity for a certain period of time so you can spend every waking moment in a meditative state. Your sole purpose and commitment for that period is to deepen your spiritual practice. By removing all distractions you’re free to work on developing the necessary focus to reach sublime levels of deep peace and Samadhi.
What I seem to have been doing since the beginning of the year is setting up my life to replicate these kind of conditions, removing as many obstacles and distractions as possible within the parameters of my daily life so I can further my practice without opting out of society completely.
I still work Monday to Friday 40 hours a week and teach 2 yoga classes on Saturdays.
I’m also committed to practising asana 6 mornings a week and sitting in meditation most evenings. But that is all.
My life has been simplified back to the bare necessities, creating the extra time and stress-free breathing space I’ve been unconsciously seeking for so long.
Creating and maintaining a higher state of consciousness is now my prime motivation in life.
As if to affirm my resolve, a little saying came to me from an unexpected source last week which said
“If you can’t see God in all, you can’t see God at all”
It reminded me of the final goal, and of just how far I have to go.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
This morning’s 20 minute trip into the shala for Sunday morning self practice promised to bring my tally up to a 6 day practice week which would be an exceptional achievement for me but sadly it’s not when I look at it honestly. The exceptional part is that I haven’t had even one “getting out of bed at 5am” battle this week – it’s been surprisingly easy and even a joy. But in all honesty, only 3 of the 6 practices (Mon. Tues. and Wed.) were full Primary. At Thursday’s Gallery practice I had to lead a total beginner, so that was half a practice and half a teaching session. Then on Friday I did Darrin’s led Iyengar practice which is always like slipping into my favourite old comfy clothes each week (despite lots of balancing in Handstand then dropping over to a slant board/Urdhva Dhanurasana).
This morning could have been a full Primary practice but there was not much fire in my belly so I stopped at Marichy C. In place of the fire there was a graceful, ballet like femininity, expressing itself through my movements. Grace is a beautiful thing, in all its myriad meanings:
1. Elegance and beauty of movement, form or expression.
2. A pleasing or charming quality
3. Courtesy or decency
4. A delay granted for the completion of a task or payment of a debt
5. The free and unmerited favour of God shown towards humankind
6. A short prayer of thanks
Insight from Jump Throughs
Although I stopped short at Marichy C, for the first time ever I just may have done all the jump throughs properly. I finally got the hang of how to do them without landing bum first a couple of months ago, but I haven’t been doing them consistently in practice. Yet all I needed to do was to make up my mind to do them properly, not just once or twice, but every time.
To get this happening I have to reinstate the intention every time the next jump through comes around, in that split second before the spring up from Dog Pose. At least until it becomes second nature.
Must not give in to the unconscious habit of the lazy jump through, landing cross legged on my bum before extending my legs to Dandasana.
Must not listen to that debilitating voice trying to convince me that my arms and shoulders will tire out if I do it properly every time. Sneaky sabotage.
Well I’m not buying that story any more.
I’m intent on graduating.
At that critical point bending my knees in Dog Pose and preparing to spring forward, I have to clearly and mindfully focus in that moment on what I want. See it happen. Then do it.
Empty mind…pure action.
Intention and resolve are the necessary components for breaking the old mechanical body habit of the lazy minded jump through and replacing it with the shiny, new mental machinery that spits out the correct action every time.
Only with complete mindfulness and clarity in the moment to remember my highest intention will I break the ingrained habits of my old personality.
And that little gem of an insight from the mat is transferable, off the mat and into daily life.
Ah the lessons we learn from our time on the mat.
And then there was a post-practice insight…if I hadn’t sat down with pen and paper and reflected on the practice afterwards, I wouldn’t have given one more thought to the mental reprogramming needed for the jump throughs. Nor would I have made the connection between that split second of remembering the intention, and its incredible power to cut through my unconscious pattern of thinking.
Blogging this stuff really is part of my sadhana, my way of reflecting, remembering, reinforcing, decoding, and revealing all those hidden gems of wisdom that can be so easily lost if not written down soon after. Very much like remembering dreams – if you don’t catch them while they’re still alive in your conscious mind, they slip away forever.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Saturday 11th March 2006
Vanilla
6am Friday morning.
The heady fragrance of Nag Champa incense engulfed me, then entered my bloodsteram, penetrating into my deepest crevices as I swam through the thickly scented air of the yoga studio, performing the Friday morning ritual of setting up bolster and blankets for Supta Virasana. I slid into this familiar pose in the early morning silence of the Iyengar studio, pulling the shutters down over my eyes again, cushioning the transition between the sleepy state and the class to come.
But the fragrance of my favourite incense was everywhere, heady, luscious, overpowering – and it seemed to be coming from Caroline. I politely enquired before she too settled into the blanket of Supta Virasana…to my incredulous horror it wasn’t Nag Champa. She delivered the ultimate insult to my olfactory sensibilities – it was Vanilla body spray from The Body Shop.
Vanilla!
Oh my God! No, not vanilla!
Vanilla is a scent I adore in the puffy French patisserie shops where it so reverently mingles with cinnamon, flour and pears. But the smell of vanilla emanating from humans softly shocks my sense of harmony with its stubborn saccharine stance against our body chemistry. It’s so obviously uncomfortable on alien territory.
I was gob-smacked. This vanilla perfume wafting over from my next door neighbour was stimulating my sense memory of the beautiful Nag Champa scent, reminding me of that breathtaking moment of anticipation when a new box of incense is opened and the heavy, sensual fragrance soaks straight into the fabric of my soul.
Its like unleashing a magnificent genie from an eternity in his bottle.
No way could I identify what I was smelling in the yoga studio as vanilla – it didn’t compute. I know vanilla. I bake often. Vanilla is coy and sweet. This wasn’t. This was definitely my purely beloved Nag Champa.
The scent stayed with me all day. I could smell it everywhere I went. I marvelled at its lingering potency, warm, alluring, slippery, sweet and spicy. I was obsessed.
Had it cast a spell on me like the love potion of Tristan and Iseult?
I tried to think logically…perhaps tiny globulets of the fragrance were caught in the fine hairs of my nasal passages?
That night I showered, washed my hair, and even cleaned out my nose, trying to free myself from its mysterious tentacles. I fell asleep under the spell of Nag Champa in its clever disguise as vanilla body spray.
Upon waking the next morning, the promise of indulging in this seductive scent lured me like a magnet for my first ever foray into The Body Shop. My eyes scanned the unfamiliar shelves of masquerading cosmetics before falling upon the amber liquid in its unassuming bottle. I was transfixed, so excited to see it in the flesh, this magic potion that promised to envelope me forever in a swirling veil of Nag Champa. I nervously picked it up off the shelf, paid the money and walked excitedly back to my car, sprayed it on my wrist and took a deep breath, inhaling every atomic particle of this love drug.
It was nothing like Nag Champa.
The spell was broken.
I smelled like a custard tart.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Friday 10th March 2006
Looking back, the solitary beginning of 2006 did feel unusually ominous. And not without reason. Some significant changes have been occurring over these first two months of the year which are setting up the conditions for me to focus more seriously on my spiritual practice:
- I’ve moved out of the home I’ve shared with my 24 year old son for 10 years, leaving him there to forge his independence and survival skills - this was his clever idea to help sever a not-so-healthy co-dependant mother/son dynamic. We’re both loving our newly found freedom from each other.
- I’ve moved in to my mum’s house by the beach for now, a big house that she has lived in on her own since my father died a year and a half ago. Every evening I wander along the beach with little Buffydog and give thanks for tonight’s celestial fireworks as the sun sinks into the ocean, leaving behind dying streaks of colour.
- My partner and I have separated after a 6 year relationship. The burning need for solitary space in which to pursue my practice meant something radical had to change or give way.
- I’ve returned to a more regular morning Ashtanga practice (5 days this week)
- I’ve returned to a regular evening meditation practice which is still a bit crusty but at least it’s regular.
Life had become full and busy on the outside, but this was preventing me from filling up the inside. Solitude and withdrawal from the stimulation of the outer world feels perfectly natural and almost essential right now. It seems I’ve been secretly longing for this solitude for quite a while, not as an escape from life, but as a means to delve deeper into my spiritual practice while still maintaining a thin lifeline to the world around me.
‘Recluse’: person who lives alone and avoids people (Late Latin recludere to shut away)
‘Hermit’: a person living in solitude, especially for religious reasons (Greek eremos lonely).
That’s me.
I make no apologies.
I have no regrets.
Because today I had an important insight, which has finally dispelled all traces of doubt about the path I’ve taken.
I am, in essence, on retreat.
Now this is not an easy thing to do right smack bang in the middle of city life, but it’s obvious that’s what all these little life changes are about.
Being on a real retreat is an awesome experience (I’m referring here to rigorous meditation retreats like Vipassana, not the so-called ‘retreats’ where you do 50 different new-age activities with a spa and a massage in between each one). On an authentic retreat you suspend all normal activity for a certain period of time so you can spend every waking moment in a meditative state. Your sole purpose and commitment for that period is to deepen your spiritual practice. By removing all distractions you’re free to work on developing the necessary focus to reach sublime levels of deep peace and Samadhi.
What I seem to have been doing since the beginning of the year is setting up my life to replicate these kind of conditions, removing as many obstacles and distractions as possible within the parameters of my daily life so I can further my practice without opting out of society completely.
I still work Monday to Friday 40 hours a week and teach 2 yoga classes on Saturdays.
I’m also committed to practising asana 6 mornings a week and sitting in meditation most evenings. But that is all.
My life has been simplified back to the bare necessities, creating the extra time and stress-free breathing space I’ve been unconsciously seeking for so long.
Creating and maintaining a higher state of consciousness is now my prime motivation in life.
As if to affirm my resolve, a little saying came to me from an unexpected source last week which said
“If you can’t see God in all, you can’t see God at all”
It reminded me of the final goal, and of just how far I have to go.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
