Thursday 28th April 2006
3 days of practice and mystical musings
Relief - my lumbar healed itself very quickly this time – in fact it’s made a remarkable recovery. I was expecting to be out of action for at least 7-10 days, but it was really only 4 days before I felt it starting to improve. After spending the weekend in agony, on ice packs, immobilised and feeling sorry for myself, I skipped practice on Monday. Monday evening a little movement came back into the lumbar – Squirming felt good.
Tuesday morning’s practice in the Gallery was a delight. With only a slight shift in my intention, the Ashtanga sequence of poses became a stable backdrop on which I could conduct my investigation. Feeling out the condition of my lumbar as it responded to each pose, bending, stretching, twisting, lifting, weight bearing – I was exploring, testing and analysing how far it would go and playing with miniscule internal adjustments that poked into the still tender tissues.
Being fully present in every cell of my body during practice is a joy – yoking together mind and body into one energetic force is like a micro experience or preparation for the ultimate Union which occurs with enlightenment.
These times of injury (even minor ones like this) are times when I connect very intimately into my body, and I love it. You can’t let the mind wander when you’re practising with an injury – pain is waiting just around the corner – you have to watch where you’re going. Injury, illness, painful life changes, they’re are all opportunities to become friends with what we initially judge as obstacles. I guess I’ve moved on from the mindset that I need to GET anywhere. When I’m completely immersed in awareness of the moment during my physical yoga practice, not only watching the arising sensations, feelings and thoughts, but also loving them, there is relatedness, and a tenderness for the frailty of my human condition, a palpable fullness that lovingly fills out my skin and flesh. This is the only place I ever need to be.
Standing poses were all solid, connected, earthy and deep. I love the standing poses – they’re so safe, grounding and reassuring when you’ve got an injury. A tentative jump through to the seated poses left me feeling a little less safe. Limited to about 50% of my normal bendy range, all the forward bends needed extra care. Ditto for the backbends.
On Wednesday I went to Mysore practice at the shala and told David about my back before I started. This is out of character for me, as I’m a grin and bear it girl, not one to whinge or let on about what’s going on for me. I prefer to silently suffer in the privacy of my homely inner world. Telling others about injury or personal problems seems to give those things an exaggerated power and weighting that distorts our perception. Whatever I put out into the world through my words becomes more solidifed and entrenched into my belief system (belief system supports Ego identification). And I’m very wary of the limiting internal dialogue that prevents us from realising how powerful we are.
But having said all that, I didn’t want David thinking I was slacking off and adjusting me more deeply into a forward bend, so I thought it best to tell him this time.
What was funny was that I didn’t need to. As I moved through practice I was surprised by what I could do – a lot of flexibility had returned in the last 24 hours. And strength – it was beautiful. It was one of those days when you get taken by surprise – where did this lovely body come from, full of exuberance and vitality? My lumbar was still restricting me but the depth of focus and pure physical energy allowed me to move past the hard edge of muscular trauma and access the pliability that only comes from a deeply integrated mind/body connection.
I actually practised so well that as I rolled up my mat to leave, I felt quite silly for even mentioning by limbar incident to David. He admitted that he wouldn’t have known I was injured.
This morning (Thursday) was similar to yesterday. A fulfilling, integrated practice.
My breathing was out of this world as if I’d tapped into the universal breath. The pulsation of prana through my body was awesome and felt like it was flushing out mental and physical obstacles, undeterred by any blockages. The Ashtanga Vinyasa practice is often described as heating and fiery, which supposedly brings samskaras to the surface and burns them up and I sort of felt that happening in the first year of practice. Now as I connect more sensitively to my energetic body and the movement of prana, the purifying process feels less fiery, more windy, like a sweeping out of the cobwebs from an empty room.
Moving seamlessly into Savasana from the final poses, the entirety of my being was pulsating in time with the energy of the universe, filled to the brim with the primordial power that courses through all life.
THIS is what I practice for, the stirring up of the mystical heart stuff lying dormant in the shadowy back recesses of the soul. And believe me, when it gets stirred, it rises with a silent but explosive force and finds release only through an opening of the heart. The soul is left glowing, the eyes are alight, the invisible sheaths of the inner body are shimmering and have no choice but to expand outwards in all directions to accommodate the enormous power generated by lighting the fire of our divine potential.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
3 days of practice and mystical musings
Relief - my lumbar healed itself very quickly this time – in fact it’s made a remarkable recovery. I was expecting to be out of action for at least 7-10 days, but it was really only 4 days before I felt it starting to improve. After spending the weekend in agony, on ice packs, immobilised and feeling sorry for myself, I skipped practice on Monday. Monday evening a little movement came back into the lumbar – Squirming felt good.
Tuesday morning’s practice in the Gallery was a delight. With only a slight shift in my intention, the Ashtanga sequence of poses became a stable backdrop on which I could conduct my investigation. Feeling out the condition of my lumbar as it responded to each pose, bending, stretching, twisting, lifting, weight bearing – I was exploring, testing and analysing how far it would go and playing with miniscule internal adjustments that poked into the still tender tissues.
Being fully present in every cell of my body during practice is a joy – yoking together mind and body into one energetic force is like a micro experience or preparation for the ultimate Union which occurs with enlightenment.
These times of injury (even minor ones like this) are times when I connect very intimately into my body, and I love it. You can’t let the mind wander when you’re practising with an injury – pain is waiting just around the corner – you have to watch where you’re going. Injury, illness, painful life changes, they’re are all opportunities to become friends with what we initially judge as obstacles. I guess I’ve moved on from the mindset that I need to GET anywhere. When I’m completely immersed in awareness of the moment during my physical yoga practice, not only watching the arising sensations, feelings and thoughts, but also loving them, there is relatedness, and a tenderness for the frailty of my human condition, a palpable fullness that lovingly fills out my skin and flesh. This is the only place I ever need to be.
Standing poses were all solid, connected, earthy and deep. I love the standing poses – they’re so safe, grounding and reassuring when you’ve got an injury. A tentative jump through to the seated poses left me feeling a little less safe. Limited to about 50% of my normal bendy range, all the forward bends needed extra care. Ditto for the backbends.
On Wednesday I went to Mysore practice at the shala and told David about my back before I started. This is out of character for me, as I’m a grin and bear it girl, not one to whinge or let on about what’s going on for me. I prefer to silently suffer in the privacy of my homely inner world. Telling others about injury or personal problems seems to give those things an exaggerated power and weighting that distorts our perception. Whatever I put out into the world through my words becomes more solidifed and entrenched into my belief system (belief system supports Ego identification). And I’m very wary of the limiting internal dialogue that prevents us from realising how powerful we are.
But having said all that, I didn’t want David thinking I was slacking off and adjusting me more deeply into a forward bend, so I thought it best to tell him this time.
What was funny was that I didn’t need to. As I moved through practice I was surprised by what I could do – a lot of flexibility had returned in the last 24 hours. And strength – it was beautiful. It was one of those days when you get taken by surprise – where did this lovely body come from, full of exuberance and vitality? My lumbar was still restricting me but the depth of focus and pure physical energy allowed me to move past the hard edge of muscular trauma and access the pliability that only comes from a deeply integrated mind/body connection.
I actually practised so well that as I rolled up my mat to leave, I felt quite silly for even mentioning by limbar incident to David. He admitted that he wouldn’t have known I was injured.
This morning (Thursday) was similar to yesterday. A fulfilling, integrated practice.
My breathing was out of this world as if I’d tapped into the universal breath. The pulsation of prana through my body was awesome and felt like it was flushing out mental and physical obstacles, undeterred by any blockages. The Ashtanga Vinyasa practice is often described as heating and fiery, which supposedly brings samskaras to the surface and burns them up and I sort of felt that happening in the first year of practice. Now as I connect more sensitively to my energetic body and the movement of prana, the purifying process feels less fiery, more windy, like a sweeping out of the cobwebs from an empty room.
Moving seamlessly into Savasana from the final poses, the entirety of my being was pulsating in time with the energy of the universe, filled to the brim with the primordial power that courses through all life.
THIS is what I practice for, the stirring up of the mystical heart stuff lying dormant in the shadowy back recesses of the soul. And believe me, when it gets stirred, it rises with a silent but explosive force and finds release only through an opening of the heart. The soul is left glowing, the eyes are alight, the invisible sheaths of the inner body are shimmering and have no choice but to expand outwards in all directions to accommodate the enormous power generated by lighting the fire of our divine potential.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday 24th April 2006
My lower back completely locked up last Friday for no apparent reason.
This has happened twice in the past year – last June I think it was caused by an over adjustment in Supta Kurmasana two days in a row, then it happened again last August and I put that incident down to overdoing some backbends.
But this time I can’t link it to a physical cause at all.
Looking back at the three days before it happened (Tues/Wed/Thurs) I’d hardly practiced at all because they were my three monthly (female) days off. I say ‘hardly’ because I did end up doing a few gentle stretches on Wednesday morning before heading off for a brisk walk up the mountain to let off some steam before work.
Thursday I did no yoga practice at all; went to bed Thursday night as usual and woke up with the deadlocked spine on Friday morning. So now I’m dubiously entertaining the thought that the cause of this recurring problem might NOT be physical, but just might be something more mysterious, something emotional, subconscious, or metaphysical. Very, VERY fascinating.
Looking back at Thursday, it was a very challenging day for me on two separate fronts.
I spent most of the day in a fairly stressful situation at work because our School was being audited and assessed for re-accreditation and re-registration – the culmination of working on the submission with two colleagues for the last 5 months. The three of us were in the firing line all day as the auditors questioned us on all aspects of our curriculum, course delivery and admin procedures. At the end of the day we finally got full approval.
Straight after work I went to visit my ex-partner who I separated from (again) 2 months ago. He was back in town to visit for 3 days and I think he held out a faint hope for reconciliation of our 6 year relationship. I too hadn’t closed off to the possibility. The two hours we spent together were quite intense for us both, imbued with a whole spectrum of emotions from love and affection to resignation and sadness. We held each other at times for comfort and the silent reassurance that life just has to go on regardless. Letting go of what has been is not easy but it opens up our life path to new possibilities and opportunities that we could never have imagined. I came away feeling very open hearted and loving towards him, but convinced that my commitment to the relationship isn’t strong enough for it to blossom.
So that was Thursday.
And Friday I woke up with this agonising backache…my lumbar spine deadlocked.
Looking at my spine in the mirror from the side, the natural curve in the lumbar has flattened out and locked itself into a shape as straight as a steel rod. It won’t curve forward or backwards.
The tender spot is slightly to the left of the spine, around L4 I think.
I cancelled my yoga classes on Saturday because I could hardly walk. Not a good look for a yoga teacher. And I cancelled my plans to go surfing yesterday with a new group of surfing buddies which I was really looking forward to. Instead I did a couple of long walks along the beach which seemed to help ease the aching a little, along with laying on packets of frozen peas.
So no practice this morning. Tomorrow I’ll do a careful early morning yoga practice in the Gallery, then get to the shala on Wednesday morning to do whatever I can do.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
My lower back completely locked up last Friday for no apparent reason.
This has happened twice in the past year – last June I think it was caused by an over adjustment in Supta Kurmasana two days in a row, then it happened again last August and I put that incident down to overdoing some backbends.
But this time I can’t link it to a physical cause at all.
Looking back at the three days before it happened (Tues/Wed/Thurs) I’d hardly practiced at all because they were my three monthly (female) days off. I say ‘hardly’ because I did end up doing a few gentle stretches on Wednesday morning before heading off for a brisk walk up the mountain to let off some steam before work.
Thursday I did no yoga practice at all; went to bed Thursday night as usual and woke up with the deadlocked spine on Friday morning. So now I’m dubiously entertaining the thought that the cause of this recurring problem might NOT be physical, but just might be something more mysterious, something emotional, subconscious, or metaphysical. Very, VERY fascinating.
Looking back at Thursday, it was a very challenging day for me on two separate fronts.
I spent most of the day in a fairly stressful situation at work because our School was being audited and assessed for re-accreditation and re-registration – the culmination of working on the submission with two colleagues for the last 5 months. The three of us were in the firing line all day as the auditors questioned us on all aspects of our curriculum, course delivery and admin procedures. At the end of the day we finally got full approval.
Straight after work I went to visit my ex-partner who I separated from (again) 2 months ago. He was back in town to visit for 3 days and I think he held out a faint hope for reconciliation of our 6 year relationship. I too hadn’t closed off to the possibility. The two hours we spent together were quite intense for us both, imbued with a whole spectrum of emotions from love and affection to resignation and sadness. We held each other at times for comfort and the silent reassurance that life just has to go on regardless. Letting go of what has been is not easy but it opens up our life path to new possibilities and opportunities that we could never have imagined. I came away feeling very open hearted and loving towards him, but convinced that my commitment to the relationship isn’t strong enough for it to blossom.
So that was Thursday.
And Friday I woke up with this agonising backache…my lumbar spine deadlocked.
Looking at my spine in the mirror from the side, the natural curve in the lumbar has flattened out and locked itself into a shape as straight as a steel rod. It won’t curve forward or backwards.
The tender spot is slightly to the left of the spine, around L4 I think.
I cancelled my yoga classes on Saturday because I could hardly walk. Not a good look for a yoga teacher. And I cancelled my plans to go surfing yesterday with a new group of surfing buddies which I was really looking forward to. Instead I did a couple of long walks along the beach which seemed to help ease the aching a little, along with laying on packets of frozen peas.
So no practice this morning. Tomorrow I’ll do a careful early morning yoga practice in the Gallery, then get to the shala on Wednesday morning to do whatever I can do.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Wednesday 12th April 2006
I’ve had two grumpy morning practices in a row. My logical brain wants to know why, especially after having such a good week last week.
Possible reasons:
- Sudden appearance this week of chocolate Easter eggs and hot-cross buns before I could summon enough discipline to resist the temptation.
- Slight increase in work related stress, not a lot, but enough to dull my smile a little.
- Extra aches and pains brought on by the extra practice last week. My body is contracting into protection mode which drains my core vitality. Must remember to watch the mind's reaction to this. A couple of times during practice when it's started to drag, I've brought to mind a strong feeling of joy and expansion and it's been like waving a magic wand, my body smiles a sigh of relief and my energy picks up and lightens...until the veil of forgetfulness descends again.
Yesterday I had a little flirt with Pasasana, but maybe it wasn't a good day to try it on. I felt miles away from the pose which is probably why David hasn’t given it to me yet. Will test drive it again on a better day. A year or so ago I was working up to Salabhasana B, and Pasasana was coming along nicely. Then came the back injury so I went back to rebuilding Primary practice. And I still am.
There’s just so much to work with in Primary - this is a practice I could happily do for the rest of my life and barely scratch the surface of it.
At the shala on Monday I was next to a lovely woman, perhaps in her mid 50’s, visiting here from interstate for a week or two. She’s been doing Ashtanga for 14 years and said she mainly does self practice. We were in synch for most of the practice, both of us doing the full Primary sequence at a similar pace side-by-side. As we went on, I began noticing what a strong, focussed, SERENE practice she had. It was awe inspiring.
Today I was next to her again and the penny dropped – today she was doing ALL of second series, maintaining incredible composure and serenity even in the gnarly bits.
I soon abandoned all wandering drishti and tried to focus on my own Gumby practice.
One positive thing to note is that since I’ve got the jump through happening in every vinyasa now, I’m attempting the proper “pick up and jump back”. "Attempting" is the operative word – it shows that I’m generally in an open and explorative state of mind, willing to look at where I’m stuck and willing to take up the challenge to work on it and through it.
The Lolasana jump backs aren’t coming yet, but I’m onto them, so they will, one day.
Likewise the blocks that prevented me from fully opening up to my partner (and which brought us to the exasperated point of separation) are also in the process of being investigated. Ugly big things they are. Being in a relatively open and expansive frame of mind, there's a desire to look at them and work on them with the same enthusiasm that's propelling me on the yoga mat every day.
Seamlessly the many layers and lessons of yoga are weaving the very fabric of my life.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
I’ve had two grumpy morning practices in a row. My logical brain wants to know why, especially after having such a good week last week.
Possible reasons:
- Sudden appearance this week of chocolate Easter eggs and hot-cross buns before I could summon enough discipline to resist the temptation.
- Slight increase in work related stress, not a lot, but enough to dull my smile a little.
- Extra aches and pains brought on by the extra practice last week. My body is contracting into protection mode which drains my core vitality. Must remember to watch the mind's reaction to this. A couple of times during practice when it's started to drag, I've brought to mind a strong feeling of joy and expansion and it's been like waving a magic wand, my body smiles a sigh of relief and my energy picks up and lightens...until the veil of forgetfulness descends again.
Yesterday I had a little flirt with Pasasana, but maybe it wasn't a good day to try it on. I felt miles away from the pose which is probably why David hasn’t given it to me yet. Will test drive it again on a better day. A year or so ago I was working up to Salabhasana B, and Pasasana was coming along nicely. Then came the back injury so I went back to rebuilding Primary practice. And I still am.
There’s just so much to work with in Primary - this is a practice I could happily do for the rest of my life and barely scratch the surface of it.
At the shala on Monday I was next to a lovely woman, perhaps in her mid 50’s, visiting here from interstate for a week or two. She’s been doing Ashtanga for 14 years and said she mainly does self practice. We were in synch for most of the practice, both of us doing the full Primary sequence at a similar pace side-by-side. As we went on, I began noticing what a strong, focussed, SERENE practice she had. It was awe inspiring.
Today I was next to her again and the penny dropped – today she was doing ALL of second series, maintaining incredible composure and serenity even in the gnarly bits.
I soon abandoned all wandering drishti and tried to focus on my own Gumby practice.
One positive thing to note is that since I’ve got the jump through happening in every vinyasa now, I’m attempting the proper “pick up and jump back”. "Attempting" is the operative word – it shows that I’m generally in an open and explorative state of mind, willing to look at where I’m stuck and willing to take up the challenge to work on it and through it.
The Lolasana jump backs aren’t coming yet, but I’m onto them, so they will, one day.
Likewise the blocks that prevented me from fully opening up to my partner (and which brought us to the exasperated point of separation) are also in the process of being investigated. Ugly big things they are. Being in a relatively open and expansive frame of mind, there's a desire to look at them and work on them with the same enthusiasm that's propelling me on the yoga mat every day.
Seamlessly the many layers and lessons of yoga are weaving the very fabric of my life.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday 10th April 2006
I was dreaming that my son had a leech like spider on him, eight gripping legs spread flat. Propelled by blind panic, ammunition exploded out of my brain and into my arm as I swiped it off his skin. I felt a huge lump forming in my throat and I woke up to the familiar sensation of thick blood sliding down my throat. Nose bleed. I rolled over to lay on my back. It was just after 4am. One more hour til the alarm goes off. I let the blood flow freely down my throat, swallowing it a few times before drifting back into deep sleep.
The alarm went off at 5.05am and I was still alive, so I got up and went to practice. Got lots of help from David – he’s right onto my case about the positioning of my upper femurs now because being quite flexible, I fold over way too easily into the forward bends without lifting up and out of the hip joints - creating space and support here in all the poses has become my new focus. But it means I have to curve my lower back which of course brings me up against a big concrete immovable block. If I suck my navel fully back to the spine making the abdomen concave, it helps to curve the back a little, but in a way it’s cheating – focussing on the malleable front belly to avoid gazing directly into the black hole that is my dead lower back.
Can only do what I can do right now, do my best, be patient and surrender the outcome to the unknown. It shall change.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sunday 9th April 2006
Practising at the shala at 6am on Sunday mornings is pretty special. Not so much because of the place (although it is a special place), not so much because of the people (only two of us there), but because it’s just not NORMAL to get up at 5am on Sunday morning and do this. NORMAL people are asleep.
But me, I have a secret lover that I sneak out to meet in the darkened hours. Yoga is the mysterious, moonlit path that leads my heart towards my Beloved, our meeting place on the mat is beyond physical time and place.
That’s why I’m relishing every chance to practice. And I’m so lucky to have the shala and the Gallery, and yoga pals, and teachers, and the time to practice (well making the time is always a matter of choice, rather than circumstance).
Inevitably the changeable nature of the universe will put an end to this sublime period of intense practice, perhaps it will be by injury, perhaps by the intrusion of an unavoidable new commitment, a change in circumstance, perhaps by my own changeable Gemini nature and the eventual demise of my enthusiasm.
But for now, while the universe has set up all the conditions in my favour, I’ll do my best to honour the gift and make the most of it.
Angie was missing this morning but David thankfully was there, so it was just the two of us. It’s a bit disappointing that more people don’t come in on Sunday mornings, but Adelaide has a reputation for being a very conservative city. It's a comfy place to retire in. Enthusiasm and eccentricity are subliminally frowned upon. The collective yoga comunity is small but solid.
I glowed with the honour of practising alongside my teacher, and discovered even in that situation that my focus was totally on my own practice – I wasn’t at all curious about what my teacher was doing over there on his mat, but I did notice the blocks and the chair. What he used them for I don’t know. My own practice delightfully consumed my entire attention from beginning to end.
From the very start my right hip ached – actually from when I woke up - and it wasn’t an ache to be ignored; it impelled me to remain aware and present, cautious to protect this fragile area. So rich was the practice that after the Marichyasanas (and Marichy D is a treat every time now), it felt like I’d already done a full 2 hours. I eased up and skipped the poses from Navasana to Supta Kurmasana, the ilio-sacral/hip danger zone.
Besides, it is Sunday.
So that’s three Sunday mornings in a row now that I’ve chosen to practice at the shala instead of sleeping in. A definite indication of how much Yoga has infiltrated my life. There comes a point when you no longer DO Yoga, you LIVE Yoga.
Does David recognise this in me? He’d at least have to acknowledge that students who turn up at the shala regularly before dawn on Sunday mornings for self practice must be slightly serious.
Stephen Levine puts his finger right on it when he says “Levels of consciousness coincide with levels of commitment."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
I was dreaming that my son had a leech like spider on him, eight gripping legs spread flat. Propelled by blind panic, ammunition exploded out of my brain and into my arm as I swiped it off his skin. I felt a huge lump forming in my throat and I woke up to the familiar sensation of thick blood sliding down my throat. Nose bleed. I rolled over to lay on my back. It was just after 4am. One more hour til the alarm goes off. I let the blood flow freely down my throat, swallowing it a few times before drifting back into deep sleep.
The alarm went off at 5.05am and I was still alive, so I got up and went to practice. Got lots of help from David – he’s right onto my case about the positioning of my upper femurs now because being quite flexible, I fold over way too easily into the forward bends without lifting up and out of the hip joints - creating space and support here in all the poses has become my new focus. But it means I have to curve my lower back which of course brings me up against a big concrete immovable block. If I suck my navel fully back to the spine making the abdomen concave, it helps to curve the back a little, but in a way it’s cheating – focussing on the malleable front belly to avoid gazing directly into the black hole that is my dead lower back.
Can only do what I can do right now, do my best, be patient and surrender the outcome to the unknown. It shall change.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sunday 9th April 2006
Practising at the shala at 6am on Sunday mornings is pretty special. Not so much because of the place (although it is a special place), not so much because of the people (only two of us there), but because it’s just not NORMAL to get up at 5am on Sunday morning and do this. NORMAL people are asleep.
But me, I have a secret lover that I sneak out to meet in the darkened hours. Yoga is the mysterious, moonlit path that leads my heart towards my Beloved, our meeting place on the mat is beyond physical time and place.
That’s why I’m relishing every chance to practice. And I’m so lucky to have the shala and the Gallery, and yoga pals, and teachers, and the time to practice (well making the time is always a matter of choice, rather than circumstance).
Inevitably the changeable nature of the universe will put an end to this sublime period of intense practice, perhaps it will be by injury, perhaps by the intrusion of an unavoidable new commitment, a change in circumstance, perhaps by my own changeable Gemini nature and the eventual demise of my enthusiasm.
But for now, while the universe has set up all the conditions in my favour, I’ll do my best to honour the gift and make the most of it.
Angie was missing this morning but David thankfully was there, so it was just the two of us. It’s a bit disappointing that more people don’t come in on Sunday mornings, but Adelaide has a reputation for being a very conservative city. It's a comfy place to retire in. Enthusiasm and eccentricity are subliminally frowned upon. The collective yoga comunity is small but solid.
I glowed with the honour of practising alongside my teacher, and discovered even in that situation that my focus was totally on my own practice – I wasn’t at all curious about what my teacher was doing over there on his mat, but I did notice the blocks and the chair. What he used them for I don’t know. My own practice delightfully consumed my entire attention from beginning to end.
From the very start my right hip ached – actually from when I woke up - and it wasn’t an ache to be ignored; it impelled me to remain aware and present, cautious to protect this fragile area. So rich was the practice that after the Marichyasanas (and Marichy D is a treat every time now), it felt like I’d already done a full 2 hours. I eased up and skipped the poses from Navasana to Supta Kurmasana, the ilio-sacral/hip danger zone.
Besides, it is Sunday.
So that’s three Sunday mornings in a row now that I’ve chosen to practice at the shala instead of sleeping in. A definite indication of how much Yoga has infiltrated my life. There comes a point when you no longer DO Yoga, you LIVE Yoga.
Does David recognise this in me? He’d at least have to acknowledge that students who turn up at the shala regularly before dawn on Sunday mornings for self practice must be slightly serious.
Stephen Levine puts his finger right on it when he says “Levels of consciousness coincide with levels of commitment."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
Friday 7th April 2006
I did it...
Six consecutive mornings of full Primary practice this week. That marks an important psychological milestone in my approach to this practice.
Why am I so excited about this?
Why does it mean so much to me?
Firstly I’ve never managed to practice 6 mornings in a row since I started Ashtanga almost 3 years ago. I was even willing to count half practices and even quarter practices if it meant chalking up 6 days in a row – but even with that concession, I never made it.
Secondly I don’t remember being able to do a full Primary practice (the kind where you do every pose fully and in correct order, with no cheating) more than 3 times in any given week. Three full Primary practices somehow got lodged into my brain as the physical maximum I could safely do without destabilising the rest of my life. On the occasional (but rare) week when I did manage to chalk up 5 morning practices in one week, I would have done Darren’s led Iyengar class and stuggled through at least one other practice giving up part way through and laying over a bolster.
So this past week was exceptional. Suddenly I’ve accelerated to light speed for the first time and entered the legendary parallel dimension of authentic Ashtanga practice.
And I’m astounded at how easy it came. Not even the increasing pain in my hip dampened the desire to get up at 5am and onto the mat every morning this week. And not only did I GET to the mat, but I also worked consistently to the edges of my comfort zone.
I hope the compassionate Almighty will forgive me for being so excited about this.
It’s inspiring. (And how weird that I’m inspiring myself). Finally I’m living it and doing it.
My faith and a commitment to this amazing morning practice has escalated.
But back to the million dollar question that is bugging me.
Why does it mean so much to me to have practised for 6 consecutive mornings?
This is an interesting question to reflect on considering that my motivation for studying and practising Yoga (in its greater meaning) is a spiritual one. Developing a solid, daily asana practice is beneficial but not a high priority in the overall scheme.
But Ashtanga…is magic. What makes it so much more than just asana?
Perhaps I’m unknowingly addicted to its effect on me.
What is it about this practice that lifts one far above the mundane and into the spiritual supersphere? It’s demanding, it’s confronting, it’s purifying. And let’s face it, an Iyengar practice just doesn’t come close to this (although the Iyengar practice is useful in a different context).
I wonder, I ponder. Then I realise that all this questioning is no more than citta vritti.
Just do the practice, 6 days a week. Enjoy every moment. And All will come.
Friday Led Practice
This morning’s led practice –Day 6 in my record-breaking week (must reinforce that so I don’t forget) – topped off the week perfectly. It wasn’t a PURE Primary practice, nor was it too unorthodox (as David occasionally is).
A couple of slow motion tai ch’i warm ups, then Surya Namaskars, all the standing poses from an extra wide stance, apparently to work into the outer hip area, trio of Paschimottanasanas, Purvottanasana, then fast forward to Baddha Konasana and all the following poses up to Urdhva Mukha Paschimottanasana with a Chakrasana in between every pose. More than half the class couldn’t do Chakrasana so they just rolled to the side and sat up before doing the vinyasa back to Dandasana.
Then it was Setu Bandhasana without lifting up onto the front of the head, followed by Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (Bridge Pose). David gave us a nice instruction in this pose which is worth mentioning: we held onto our ankles, making sure the little finger was firmly gripping the ankles, raised our hips then took the focus to pulling with the little finger and pressing the elbows firmly into the floor. These two points really helped to connect with the correct movement of the shoulderblades down and in. I’m not overly intimate with my shoulderblades, them things on my back being in the unfamiliar region of upper back body – my attention is habitually drawn to the lumbar or front hips in the backbends unless I’m prodded elsewhere.
Then a different take on the finishing sequence: we did all the poses from Shoulderstand through to Pindasana with a FULL VINYASA in between each pose. That means we started from Samasthithi, did 6 vinyasas then jumped through to sitting, laid down and lifted up inyo Shoulderstand, held it for 10 breaths, did Chakrasana (or rolled to the side) then vinyasad all the way back up to Samasthithi. Repeated this for all the other poses but only held them for 5 breaths. Chakrasana got really fluid and easy because the back of my neck was already softened from the jalandhara bandha in each of the inversions. David said we can do it this way (full vinyasas between all the finishing poses) when we’ve got three and a half hours to practice. Sure thing.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday 3rd April 2006
Something beautiful happens when I consciously open up to receive the feeling of divine presence.
A soft electrical buzzing permeates all my nerves and nadis, my solidity begins to break up and the frequency that my physical mass resonates at starts to speed up. I become lighter, less solid, expanding.
It actually feels like the electrical energy that softly courses through my body is working to loosen, neutralise and dissolve a lifetime of blockages held in my body.
Sitting still, with the body dissolving into a higher vibration, there is an equally strong sense of purification of the mental and emotional layers, as if the illusions, ignorance and beliefs that belong to my lower self are being raised up from the dead and dissolved in the light.
It’s hard to describe, but it’s a very physical sensation, and tuning into it requires much more subtle and refined receptors than what we normally walk around with.
Sitting in this altered state and cultivating it is the key to moving my practice to the next level. Not only cultivating it, but surrendering to it and allowing it the freedom to escalate.
It’s a powerful force, this divine intervention, and I sense it will annihilate “Me” when I can eventually surrender fully to it. On a superficial level, I would love to take the next step and fully give way, to empty out all my contents and let it fill me up so that all trace of ‘I’ disappears forever. But I sense at a deeper level, what’s left of ‘Me’ is still hesitant (otherwise it would have happened).
Having worked away for many years to dissolve my Ego (that sense of who “I” am), I now find myself stranded in a foreign wilderness, caught between two universes. Relating with the people I work with, my family, friends and lovers that I’m in relationship with, is becoming alien because I no longer exist as a fully concrete ‘Person’ with a personality bound by beliefs and opinions. Sometimes I feel like I’m just their reflection.
Ultimately no sense of separation between me and other should exist, but I still have a sense of separateness that can only be dissolved through full surrender to that which is behind, within and beside us all. The wave dissolving into its oceanness.
Once I give myself up, I know I’ll be taken care of. The Divine, The Beloved, God, The Source is within and without. When all melds into One, relating won’t be an issue – nothing will.
How to move into that final phase?
Sit in meditation more often and just BE with this feeling that starts as a soft buzzing. Then let the process go where it needs to go, do what it must do. Become familiar with it and trust it.
We are not ever given what we are not ready for.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
I did it...
Six consecutive mornings of full Primary practice this week. That marks an important psychological milestone in my approach to this practice.
Why am I so excited about this?
Why does it mean so much to me?
Firstly I’ve never managed to practice 6 mornings in a row since I started Ashtanga almost 3 years ago. I was even willing to count half practices and even quarter practices if it meant chalking up 6 days in a row – but even with that concession, I never made it.
Secondly I don’t remember being able to do a full Primary practice (the kind where you do every pose fully and in correct order, with no cheating) more than 3 times in any given week. Three full Primary practices somehow got lodged into my brain as the physical maximum I could safely do without destabilising the rest of my life. On the occasional (but rare) week when I did manage to chalk up 5 morning practices in one week, I would have done Darren’s led Iyengar class and stuggled through at least one other practice giving up part way through and laying over a bolster.
So this past week was exceptional. Suddenly I’ve accelerated to light speed for the first time and entered the legendary parallel dimension of authentic Ashtanga practice.
And I’m astounded at how easy it came. Not even the increasing pain in my hip dampened the desire to get up at 5am and onto the mat every morning this week. And not only did I GET to the mat, but I also worked consistently to the edges of my comfort zone.
I hope the compassionate Almighty will forgive me for being so excited about this.
It’s inspiring. (And how weird that I’m inspiring myself). Finally I’m living it and doing it.
My faith and a commitment to this amazing morning practice has escalated.
But back to the million dollar question that is bugging me.
Why does it mean so much to me to have practised for 6 consecutive mornings?
This is an interesting question to reflect on considering that my motivation for studying and practising Yoga (in its greater meaning) is a spiritual one. Developing a solid, daily asana practice is beneficial but not a high priority in the overall scheme.
But Ashtanga…is magic. What makes it so much more than just asana?
Perhaps I’m unknowingly addicted to its effect on me.
What is it about this practice that lifts one far above the mundane and into the spiritual supersphere? It’s demanding, it’s confronting, it’s purifying. And let’s face it, an Iyengar practice just doesn’t come close to this (although the Iyengar practice is useful in a different context).
I wonder, I ponder. Then I realise that all this questioning is no more than citta vritti.
Just do the practice, 6 days a week. Enjoy every moment. And All will come.
Friday Led Practice
This morning’s led practice –Day 6 in my record-breaking week (must reinforce that so I don’t forget) – topped off the week perfectly. It wasn’t a PURE Primary practice, nor was it too unorthodox (as David occasionally is).
A couple of slow motion tai ch’i warm ups, then Surya Namaskars, all the standing poses from an extra wide stance, apparently to work into the outer hip area, trio of Paschimottanasanas, Purvottanasana, then fast forward to Baddha Konasana and all the following poses up to Urdhva Mukha Paschimottanasana with a Chakrasana in between every pose. More than half the class couldn’t do Chakrasana so they just rolled to the side and sat up before doing the vinyasa back to Dandasana.
Then it was Setu Bandhasana without lifting up onto the front of the head, followed by Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (Bridge Pose). David gave us a nice instruction in this pose which is worth mentioning: we held onto our ankles, making sure the little finger was firmly gripping the ankles, raised our hips then took the focus to pulling with the little finger and pressing the elbows firmly into the floor. These two points really helped to connect with the correct movement of the shoulderblades down and in. I’m not overly intimate with my shoulderblades, them things on my back being in the unfamiliar region of upper back body – my attention is habitually drawn to the lumbar or front hips in the backbends unless I’m prodded elsewhere.
Then a different take on the finishing sequence: we did all the poses from Shoulderstand through to Pindasana with a FULL VINYASA in between each pose. That means we started from Samasthithi, did 6 vinyasas then jumped through to sitting, laid down and lifted up inyo Shoulderstand, held it for 10 breaths, did Chakrasana (or rolled to the side) then vinyasad all the way back up to Samasthithi. Repeated this for all the other poses but only held them for 5 breaths. Chakrasana got really fluid and easy because the back of my neck was already softened from the jalandhara bandha in each of the inversions. David said we can do it this way (full vinyasas between all the finishing poses) when we’ve got three and a half hours to practice. Sure thing.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday 3rd April 2006
Something beautiful happens when I consciously open up to receive the feeling of divine presence.
A soft electrical buzzing permeates all my nerves and nadis, my solidity begins to break up and the frequency that my physical mass resonates at starts to speed up. I become lighter, less solid, expanding.
It actually feels like the electrical energy that softly courses through my body is working to loosen, neutralise and dissolve a lifetime of blockages held in my body.
Sitting still, with the body dissolving into a higher vibration, there is an equally strong sense of purification of the mental and emotional layers, as if the illusions, ignorance and beliefs that belong to my lower self are being raised up from the dead and dissolved in the light.
It’s hard to describe, but it’s a very physical sensation, and tuning into it requires much more subtle and refined receptors than what we normally walk around with.
Sitting in this altered state and cultivating it is the key to moving my practice to the next level. Not only cultivating it, but surrendering to it and allowing it the freedom to escalate.
It’s a powerful force, this divine intervention, and I sense it will annihilate “Me” when I can eventually surrender fully to it. On a superficial level, I would love to take the next step and fully give way, to empty out all my contents and let it fill me up so that all trace of ‘I’ disappears forever. But I sense at a deeper level, what’s left of ‘Me’ is still hesitant (otherwise it would have happened).
Having worked away for many years to dissolve my Ego (that sense of who “I” am), I now find myself stranded in a foreign wilderness, caught between two universes. Relating with the people I work with, my family, friends and lovers that I’m in relationship with, is becoming alien because I no longer exist as a fully concrete ‘Person’ with a personality bound by beliefs and opinions. Sometimes I feel like I’m just their reflection.
Ultimately no sense of separation between me and other should exist, but I still have a sense of separateness that can only be dissolved through full surrender to that which is behind, within and beside us all. The wave dissolving into its oceanness.
Once I give myself up, I know I’ll be taken care of. The Divine, The Beloved, God, The Source is within and without. When all melds into One, relating won’t be an issue – nothing will.
How to move into that final phase?
Sit in meditation more often and just BE with this feeling that starts as a soft buzzing. Then let the process go where it needs to go, do what it must do. Become familiar with it and trust it.
We are not ever given what we are not ready for.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
