Wednesday 28th February 2007
Plain Sailing and Deep Sea Diving
Despite twisting my ankle last Sunday, I went to the shala, and I practised anyway. Totally modified the practice, but figured better that than nothing.
David left me alone to do what I had to do today so I only got a supporting adjustment in Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana where I was wobbly on the injured ankle.
No jumps or vinyasas and no lotus poses this week.
The seated poses had to be done without the Up dog/Down dog vinyasas, so the second half was like a forward bend practice, but I so like the Ashtanga ethos of how every forward bend is followed by a back bend then a neutral Dogpose (the reason for the inbetween vinyasas) that I needed to find another way to do it. So in between the poses I sat tall in Dandasana then arched up and back through the upper spine like Ustrasana for a few breaths which felt really lovely.
As I was leaving the shala a person who often practises opposite me remarked on my “beautifully contained practise”.
He said he’s noticed how I just come in, lay down my mat, do my practice with no frills, no props, no fuss, roll up my mat and leave. He’s an older man, quite stiff, and David has him working with a lot of props. Although I haven’t paid much attention to his practice, I don’t think he’s progressed past the standing poses yet.
Yet somehow, at times when I've glanced across the room, I've picked up on his determination to stick with this practice despite the painfully slow progress. I've often seen him using two blocks under his hands to help with the fundamental action of lifting up ready for the jump back; he uses a rubber ring to connect hand to foot for Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana; and two blocks under his hands or feet for Urdhva Dhanurasana with David's adjustments stretching his very core, eliciting those very deep groans of agonising opening.
But he’s consistently there and obviously dedicated. I feel a sweet tenderness for him and everyone else travelling the well worn path towards samadhi.
His remark caught me by surprise and I mumbled some regrettably glib response. But what surprised me was that I didn’t feel flattered at all, I felt genuinely embarrassed and undeserving of the compliment, a reaction that sparked off a bit of self reflection as to why.
My so-called “contained” practice mirrors my self-contained attitude to a lot of other things – perhaps it's self assurance borne of years of spiritual practice and knowledge of the higher purpose that pervades all life. Comfort and ease become permanent when we find that safe inner sanctuary of the heart in which to dwell.
As often happens, I thought of the best response a few minutes too late, and he’d gone. If only I could be in my true heart 24 hours a day and allow that Truth to effortless flow from my lips.
I’d like to have said to him that his Ashtanga practice is more authentic than mine because he’s learning it from the ground up (I discovered it after 6 years of Iyengar practice and was doing the full primary series right from the start with an Iyengar mindset until the breath/bandha/drishti effect seeped in and began to flow through my practice).
I still can’t lift up and jump back correctly and don’t even try to do it properly. I suppose I could pull out two blocks, sit in Dandasana with my hands on the blocks and lift with all my bandhas, cross my ankles, spread the energy across the back of my weak shoulders and practice, practice, practice, over and over…but I don’t.
I just do what I’ve always done, sail from go to whoa, from here to there in a fairly straight line. There may be no frills and no fuss and it may look pure from the outside, but plain sailing on calm water isn’t what Ashtanga practice, or life is all about. In skimming the surface, we shortchange ourselves of the discoveries that lay waiting below the shimmery surface, past the murky depths, way down in the subterraneum caverns through which the life force flows.
Last Sunday evening I joined Kosta for a quiet forward bend practice, something I hope we can establish as a weekly institution so I can visit these secret places.
Because I’d twisted my ankle last Sunday afternoon while bushwalking, my outer right ankle had started swelling up and I couldn’t do any poses which put pressure on the area (all the lotus and half lotus poses). I managed Janu Sirsasana and Parivritta Janu Sirsasana with a soft blanket under the ankle. Tiriang Mukhai I could only do with fat blanket support under one buttock because the extra height took pressure off the front of the injured foot which didn’t want to stretch at all.
Kosta led the sequence but I'll probably lead the next one in a fortnight and perhaps we might even invite others along, don't know yet.
There’s quite a sweet interior delight to be found in extending the time spent in forward bends to 5-8 minutes, extremely uncomfortable at times, but always very interesting to navigate around and through the chaos and the silence that arise and disappear as the physical and mental obstacles arise and disappear. Holding one position for an extended time gives me the opportunity to silently observe the mind and body sensations coming and going, while gradually moving towards stilling the fluctuations and coming to rest at the bottom of the ocean.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Plain Sailing and Deep Sea Diving
Despite twisting my ankle last Sunday, I went to the shala, and I practised anyway. Totally modified the practice, but figured better that than nothing.
David left me alone to do what I had to do today so I only got a supporting adjustment in Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana where I was wobbly on the injured ankle.
No jumps or vinyasas and no lotus poses this week.
The seated poses had to be done without the Up dog/Down dog vinyasas, so the second half was like a forward bend practice, but I so like the Ashtanga ethos of how every forward bend is followed by a back bend then a neutral Dogpose (the reason for the inbetween vinyasas) that I needed to find another way to do it. So in between the poses I sat tall in Dandasana then arched up and back through the upper spine like Ustrasana for a few breaths which felt really lovely.
As I was leaving the shala a person who often practises opposite me remarked on my “beautifully contained practise”.
He said he’s noticed how I just come in, lay down my mat, do my practice with no frills, no props, no fuss, roll up my mat and leave. He’s an older man, quite stiff, and David has him working with a lot of props. Although I haven’t paid much attention to his practice, I don’t think he’s progressed past the standing poses yet.
Yet somehow, at times when I've glanced across the room, I've picked up on his determination to stick with this practice despite the painfully slow progress. I've often seen him using two blocks under his hands to help with the fundamental action of lifting up ready for the jump back; he uses a rubber ring to connect hand to foot for Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana; and two blocks under his hands or feet for Urdhva Dhanurasana with David's adjustments stretching his very core, eliciting those very deep groans of agonising opening.
But he’s consistently there and obviously dedicated. I feel a sweet tenderness for him and everyone else travelling the well worn path towards samadhi.
His remark caught me by surprise and I mumbled some regrettably glib response. But what surprised me was that I didn’t feel flattered at all, I felt genuinely embarrassed and undeserving of the compliment, a reaction that sparked off a bit of self reflection as to why.
My so-called “contained” practice mirrors my self-contained attitude to a lot of other things – perhaps it's self assurance borne of years of spiritual practice and knowledge of the higher purpose that pervades all life. Comfort and ease become permanent when we find that safe inner sanctuary of the heart in which to dwell.
As often happens, I thought of the best response a few minutes too late, and he’d gone. If only I could be in my true heart 24 hours a day and allow that Truth to effortless flow from my lips.
I’d like to have said to him that his Ashtanga practice is more authentic than mine because he’s learning it from the ground up (I discovered it after 6 years of Iyengar practice and was doing the full primary series right from the start with an Iyengar mindset until the breath/bandha/drishti effect seeped in and began to flow through my practice).
I still can’t lift up and jump back correctly and don’t even try to do it properly. I suppose I could pull out two blocks, sit in Dandasana with my hands on the blocks and lift with all my bandhas, cross my ankles, spread the energy across the back of my weak shoulders and practice, practice, practice, over and over…but I don’t.
I just do what I’ve always done, sail from go to whoa, from here to there in a fairly straight line. There may be no frills and no fuss and it may look pure from the outside, but plain sailing on calm water isn’t what Ashtanga practice, or life is all about. In skimming the surface, we shortchange ourselves of the discoveries that lay waiting below the shimmery surface, past the murky depths, way down in the subterraneum caverns through which the life force flows.
Last Sunday evening I joined Kosta for a quiet forward bend practice, something I hope we can establish as a weekly institution so I can visit these secret places.
Because I’d twisted my ankle last Sunday afternoon while bushwalking, my outer right ankle had started swelling up and I couldn’t do any poses which put pressure on the area (all the lotus and half lotus poses). I managed Janu Sirsasana and Parivritta Janu Sirsasana with a soft blanket under the ankle. Tiriang Mukhai I could only do with fat blanket support under one buttock because the extra height took pressure off the front of the injured foot which didn’t want to stretch at all.
Kosta led the sequence but I'll probably lead the next one in a fortnight and perhaps we might even invite others along, don't know yet.
There’s quite a sweet interior delight to be found in extending the time spent in forward bends to 5-8 minutes, extremely uncomfortable at times, but always very interesting to navigate around and through the chaos and the silence that arise and disappear as the physical and mental obstacles arise and disappear. Holding one position for an extended time gives me the opportunity to silently observe the mind and body sensations coming and going, while gradually moving towards stilling the fluctuations and coming to rest at the bottom of the ocean.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
