- response by a couple of coworkers asking about my nice Garbha Pindasana bruise. It's back again! The lure of Ashtanga can be very hard to explain sometimes...
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
practice in the rain
Practice has been quite delicious lately. Not in the awesome-strength-and-flexibility way, actually I've been feeling quite the opposite. I was hit with the cold/flu (whatever it was: cold symptoms plus fever and muscle tightness) a couple of weeks ago, followed by continuing tightness and a pulled something in my shoulder last week. I took great care to monitor energy levels and adjust practice accordingly, even taking 3 days off to rest. It felt good to do so, and I was able to bounce back quickly.
The shoulder thing, who knows. Asana progress was happening in those deeper practices around the time of the Confluence, but tempered with a bit of pessimism. Of course something was going to happen. But you know what? It's okay. We've been gentle with it, I've been leaving out Chakrasana, and I'm getting supported in Urdhva Dhanurasana. I've still had some deep practices this week, just not in the physical sense.
Last night I unrolled my mat on the front porch as a thunderstorm rolled in. Sweat streamed down my arms, legs, and down the bridge of my nose with the high humidity. Deep breathing and rumbling thunder.
Primary series is yoga therapy, yoga chikitsa. It is doing what it is meant to do- slowly healing me from the outside in.
After practice, I was greeted with this:
The shoulder thing, who knows. Asana progress was happening in those deeper practices around the time of the Confluence, but tempered with a bit of pessimism. Of course something was going to happen. But you know what? It's okay. We've been gentle with it, I've been leaving out Chakrasana, and I'm getting supported in Urdhva Dhanurasana. I've still had some deep practices this week, just not in the physical sense.
Last night I unrolled my mat on the front porch as a thunderstorm rolled in. Sweat streamed down my arms, legs, and down the bridge of my nose with the high humidity. Deep breathing and rumbling thunder.
Primary series is yoga therapy, yoga chikitsa. It is doing what it is meant to do- slowly healing me from the outside in.
After practice, I was greeted with this:
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Confluence 2012, post 2: An evolving Ashtanga
My first mysore practice of the Confluence was a bit unnerving. At the suggestion of my regular teachers back home, my normal practice includes a series of prep postures before Supta Kurmasana to work on opening and relaxing the hips. I guess the idea is similar to using props for assistance, with the understanding that the prep postures will be taken away as things improve. Anyway, as I was coaxing my left leg behind my head while seated, a senior teacher came over and began adjusting me as though I were going into Eka Pada Sirsasana, which cause quite a bit of discomfort and alarm. I came out of it and tried to explain what I was doing, but I was firmly scolded for inserting preps and I felt my cheeks turn red with embarrassment.
I stewed over this for a couple of hours until the first afternoon panel discussion, when the senior teachers discussed Ashtanga as a "work in progress". The series of Ashtanga have been tinkered with since the senior teachers had first learned them (some changes summarized by Claudia here), including the asanas, order of asanas, breath count, removal of full vinyasas, etc. Although Guruji always maintained that he taught exactly as his guru had taught him, it is clear that things were being modified with time, and depending on the student at hand. When Nancy Gilgoff asked him why certain changes had been made, he simply responded, "Research."
When Guruji instructed them all to "teach as I taught you," it represents a particular viewpoint from a particular point in time, filtered through the perceptions and experiences of the student (now the teachers). During the panel discussion, they emphasized that the practice, as a whole, had not been modified that much and that we need to respect the series as they had been constructed, but not take it as hard dogma. Maybe this, in part, helps to explain some of the philosophical differences between the teachers, or acceptable modifications of the practice - such as David Swenson's Ashtanga "short forms", Tim Miller's acceptance of props (see that one Vanity Fair article), or my senior teacher's temporary encouragement of my prep postures.
I stewed over this for a couple of hours until the first afternoon panel discussion, when the senior teachers discussed Ashtanga as a "work in progress". The series of Ashtanga have been tinkered with since the senior teachers had first learned them (some changes summarized by Claudia here), including the asanas, order of asanas, breath count, removal of full vinyasas, etc. Although Guruji always maintained that he taught exactly as his guru had taught him, it is clear that things were being modified with time, and depending on the student at hand. When Nancy Gilgoff asked him why certain changes had been made, he simply responded, "Research."
When Guruji instructed them all to "teach as I taught you," it represents a particular viewpoint from a particular point in time, filtered through the perceptions and experiences of the student (now the teachers). During the panel discussion, they emphasized that the practice, as a whole, had not been modified that much and that we need to respect the series as they had been constructed, but not take it as hard dogma. Maybe this, in part, helps to explain some of the philosophical differences between the teachers, or acceptable modifications of the practice - such as David Swenson's Ashtanga "short forms", Tim Miller's acceptance of props (see that one Vanity Fair article), or my senior teacher's temporary encouragement of my prep postures.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Confluence 2012, post 1: When a great tree falls
We arrived back in Gainesville last night after 10 hours of hopping around the country. The Ashtanga Yoga Confluence was an incredible experience. I thought that maybe I would take notes and write nightly summaries of the events, but felt that maybe it would take away from my experience. I was happy to sit back and soak it in. Thus, I did not write down the discussions verbatum and anything I summarize here is just paraphrasing. Each of the five senior teachers (Nancy Gilgoff, Richard Freeman, Tim Miller, Eddie Stern, David Swenson) would've been worth traveling for in their own right, but the combination of them was just so special. They listened intently to one another, laughed until tears, nodded, and rode on each other's insights and stories. And each of them is so articulate and funny in their own way, I could've listened to the panel discussions for weeks. David Swenson is a walking joke reel and Eddie Stern is lightening-fast with those quips. Yes, the Confluence was greater than the sum of its parts.
The first panel discussion began with a mixture of personal stories about Guruji. Each of the senior teachers developed a personal relationship with him, a human being with good days and bad days and who expressed his emotions genuinely. Richard Freeman described this as a "childlike innocence". He enjoyed going to Disneyland when in California (Tim has a photo of Guruji and Micky Mouse entitled "my two gurus"). Freeman was present for Guruji's first experience with snow. Common threads emerged: Pattabhi Jois was a man that loved teaching- it was his life's work and Amma would catch him counting in his sleep. He would've continued teaching even if he never saw monetary rewards from it (said by David Swenson- all senior teachers nodded in agreement). He was a man that radiated joy and contentment. He maintained his sense of curiosity and would not hesitate to travel- but he wanted his family with him and missed Amma too much when they were apart.
On the future of Ashtanga Yoga:
The first panel discussion began with a mixture of personal stories about Guruji. Each of the senior teachers developed a personal relationship with him, a human being with good days and bad days and who expressed his emotions genuinely. Richard Freeman described this as a "childlike innocence". He enjoyed going to Disneyland when in California (Tim has a photo of Guruji and Micky Mouse entitled "my two gurus"). Freeman was present for Guruji's first experience with snow. Common threads emerged: Pattabhi Jois was a man that loved teaching- it was his life's work and Amma would catch him counting in his sleep. He would've continued teaching even if he never saw monetary rewards from it (said by David Swenson- all senior teachers nodded in agreement). He was a man that radiated joy and contentment. He maintained his sense of curiosity and would not hesitate to travel- but he wanted his family with him and missed Amma too much when they were apart.
On the future of Ashtanga Yoga:
David Swenson invited the room to imagine Guruji as a very large and powerful tree in the forest. This tree had a magnetic pull on all of the inhabitants of the forest, and for years, people would find peace and comfort under the shade of its great branches. It became a gathering place- a hub of activity and source of strength. One day, the great tree was no longer there, creating an enormous void. What happens now that the landscape is no longer the same? Where do people gather? While it is normal for the forest inhabitants to feel sadness at this enormous void, Swenson asked us to think about what happens when such a space opens up. The opening created by the canopy of the great tree allows sunlight to stream into the forest. Young seedlings, the new generation of teachers and practitioners, receive this warmth and light and may flourish. He emphasizes later that the seedlings will only flourish and become healthy if the ground is fertile.
Eddie Stern added that Guruji's whole "style" was very informal and unorganized, and that this method of teaching is still transmitted through the present-day Ashtanga community. In the old days, Guruji would invite students into his home, preferring to teach small batches of students at a time. This fostered a closeness between teacher and student and a sense of family and community. Ashtanga continues to spread in this manner- small town by small town, small shala by small shala- and that there is a certain purity in it. Though Stern states that he is not criticizing any of the other 'schools' of yoga, he wonders if what keeps Ashtanga out of trouble, in the corruption sense, is in its grassroots nature - its inherent lack of organization. Perhaps others can chime in on possible interpretations of this conversation, but I got a "keep it simple, keep it pure" message from it.
One thing that seemed obvious from the Confluence was that the Ashtanga Community is alive and well.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
afraid to admit progress
I was first driven to start up a blog due to some intense drama with drop backs- the crashing, hitting my head, the tears, the anxiety- and I needed a place to pour my feelings into. It seems that my practice has always had these intense trouble spots, especially alternating between Supta K and backbends. It was Bhujapidasana and headstand, initially. I've watched the fluctuations, the little improvements and regressions. If I begin making progress with something, I watch as it's taken away from me. I've had to learn not to get my hopes up.
There isn't any one asana in my practice right now that stands out as terrifying or dread-inducing. We've brought back the drop backs slowly, and they actually feel decent and without much hesitation on my part. Hip flexibility has always been a struggle, but I'm getting further into Supta K than I ever have before. I'm able to regularly bind both sides of Marichyasana D, a pose that was once impossible. These all should be encouraging signs, right? Practice and all is coming, even if little by little! Yet, I find my practice steeped in pessimism. It's like I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall- an injury to occur, whatever- to send me back to where I was a year ago. While it's good not to be attached to one's successes, I don't think this negativity is a good thing, either. I don't want to give into this "what's the point?" attitude that creeps in sometimes. It's good to acknowledge it and understand why it's there, though.
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In other news, I have travel on the brain. I'm leaving this cold behind for Panama tomorrow! Tickets have been purchased for a project in Haiti (early May) and I'm entertaining thoughts on returning to Brazil. My collaborator wrote and said they are looking for funding for additional field work and that it's possible that they could bring me down to help out on their dime. Very tempting… who needs to work on graduating anyway?
There isn't any one asana in my practice right now that stands out as terrifying or dread-inducing. We've brought back the drop backs slowly, and they actually feel decent and without much hesitation on my part. Hip flexibility has always been a struggle, but I'm getting further into Supta K than I ever have before. I'm able to regularly bind both sides of Marichyasana D, a pose that was once impossible. These all should be encouraging signs, right? Practice and all is coming, even if little by little! Yet, I find my practice steeped in pessimism. It's like I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall- an injury to occur, whatever- to send me back to where I was a year ago. While it's good not to be attached to one's successes, I don't think this negativity is a good thing, either. I don't want to give into this "what's the point?" attitude that creeps in sometimes. It's good to acknowledge it and understand why it's there, though.
_________________________________________________________________________________
In other news, I have travel on the brain. I'm leaving this cold behind for Panama tomorrow! Tickets have been purchased for a project in Haiti (early May) and I'm entertaining thoughts on returning to Brazil. My collaborator wrote and said they are looking for funding for additional field work and that it's possible that they could bring me down to help out on their dime. Very tempting… who needs to work on graduating anyway?
Sunday, February 5, 2012
community
Multicolored lights hung from the branches of every old oak tree in the courtyard last night and the thumping rhythm of salsa and merengue filled the air until the wee hours. Partnered dancing with steps has always intimidated me, but especially in a town with an influx of amazing dancers from across Latin America. Not last night, though. I danced and danced in that magical, uninhibited way until my feet blistered against the straps of my sandals. I didn't notice until this morning. Everyone genuinely appreciated everyone else- sincere smiling, laughing, hugging, and dancing. We were there to celebrate the life of our friend and colleague who passed away suddenly last week at the age of 31. Proceeds of the benefit will go to send him back to his native Guatemala for a proper burial and to support his family back home, particularly his young daughter. I will miss his contagious smile, messages written in Portuguese (we were both trying to learn), and the way he greeted me as an old friend whenever he saw me. Though our department is grieving, people came out en masse yesterday, pitching in their decorating, cooking, baking, home-brewing, musical, and dancing skills. Everyone contributed, and yesterday turned into a celebration of life, friendship, and community. The beauty of it all caught up with me- one of those moments where you pause and acknowledge how grateful you are for the air in your lungs.
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