My First Yoga Mag!

(Well, okay, it's the Kripalu catalog...but still!!)

A fire is a ragin'...

For the last two days I have regretted the fact that every shirt I own is scoop or v-necked, because I have had no reasonable way to cover the terrific heat rash that has appeared all over my chest.

If my Ayurvedic doctor read this, he would be very disappointed. ("My" being a bit of a stretch, as I've only been to see him once, and haven't really done a very good job of following his edicts...hence the disappointment). He told me! He told me that Los Angeles was aggravatting my Pitta self ("You have to remember, you're living in a desert..") and that I needed to do my best to cool down all that excess heat. He told me. He told me it wouldn't require all that much...cut back on the spicy foods, cut out the ice-cold drinks (this seems like a contradiction, but apparently ice-cold stuff heats a body up), cut out the coffee, do some coconut oil massage, take it a little easy in yoga class (not too much of the crazy stuff)...meditate, meditate, meditate. Basically...chill the f*&! out.

Yes, sir, doctor, sir!

Cut to: yours truly starting every morning with an iced latte and a cliff bar, rounding out the day with a bowl of piping hot spicy tom kah soup, kicking my own ass in yoga class, sticking the coconut oil in the way back of the bathroom shelf and, oh yeah, did I mention cutting WAY down on my daily water intake?

Um, wait. What?

So, yes, two days ago my chest exploded in a heat rash. And even though at the moment the heat rash appeared I was also dealing with a leaking bedroom, a broken kitchen sink, failing brakes, an absentee sublettor and an ant infestation, somehow the idea that my skin is no longer as perfect as it once was is what dissolved me into a wet sobbing mess.

What do they call that, again? Oh right...vanity.

I think what really sent me over the edge was asking myself "what is the lesson in all of this?" every time each new minor crises appeared. I don't think there is anything more aggravatting than feeling completely screwed by ones day and then asking oneself in a fake-y detached voice what the lesson is in all of this? The only readily available lesson at that moment is that if that voice doesn't stop asking what the lesson is there is going to be some serious trouble.

What's the lesson?! This apartment sucks and I should no longer go out in public! That's the lesson, you a-hole!

Ahem.

Now that I've had a few days, I have a slightly (note it, "slightly") larger view on the whole situation. Or at least, these are the things that strike me:

That all of my immediate problems seem to be due to an excess of heat, and that the advice I have been given has been to try and "chill", and that learning how to chill is the lesson I perhaps need to learn more than any other. That I have moved to this desert city to enact some large push towards an even larger goal and that the seat of the will (necessary for accomplishing said goal) is also the seat of fire in the body. And lastly, that the parts of my body affected by my heat-related skin eruptions are my forehead and my chest, which are also the places of the intuition and of the heart...whether that means I am paying too much attention or not enough attention to those places is anyone's guess.

All I can say for sure is that there is fire in me and it is trying to get out, and it may be time to actually commit to dousing some of those flames. And I will try to begin by being grateful to my body for attempting this vivid, complicated, mysterious communication with me. A speaker I really love often says, "if you ignore it, don't worry, it will get bigger!"

I am happy that there is fire in me...I want fire. I just don't want it to burn the entire house down. I'm going to go apologize to my Ayurvedic doctor now, and have a glass of water...no ice.

Victory!!!

Well, Shanti-Town, it's been a wild couple of weeks; I have been to the desert, I have turned one apartment into a another apartment, I have belted out some Carrie Underwood in front of a room full of strangers, I have celebrated A LOT and today I turned a corner...

Today marks the first day of the last year of my twenties. That's right, folks, today this little yogaholic turns 29. A birthday surprising in its momentousness. 29? Who knew THAT would be a big birthday? 30 is what it's all about. 30 is the birthday deserving of some total skin-shedding. Right? Am I right? Well...I may BE right, but 29 sure snuck up on me.

This morning, while getting in a quick cuddle with my love before heading off to (ugh) work, I was quietly overcome with a chest-gripping nostalgia: My god, time is just moving. It is a train that I have boarded and can not get off of (wouldn't, even if I could), but man is it just my imagination, or is it SPEEDING UP? My twenties have been such a mass of confusing emotions and big changes that for a long time I've felt...well, let's just say more than ready to say goodbye to them. But this morning my twenties did not seem to me like an aggravating ball of crazy, no, this morning I could feel all the sweetness, all the energy, all the veil-dropping-ness of what it is to be a twenty-something. I could have cried.

I could go on, trust me, all about growing up and revelation and this illusive thing called "womanhood", but I'll digress...because this post (please reference above title) is about victory. It is about a little tiny (giant) personal victory.

Drum-roll please!

Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, while sequestered in the tiny gym on the 7th floor of the lawfirm where I work weekends, I DID MY FIRST UNASSISTED DROPBACK!!!

(For those of you who don't know what one is, THIS is a dropback.)

Now, I've been doing assisted dropbacks for quite a while now, and I know--have known for some time--that I have all the flexibility and strength and know-how I need in order to be able to do one on my one, but, until today, I never have. I have wanted to, oh, how I have wanted to! I salivate over dropbacks. I have given myself many a neck crink just watching other people do them in class...they are...DELICIOUS. But, I have always waited for the teacher to come over, or some good old fashioned wall-time in order to get them done. And why? Because dropbacks are S-C-A-R-Y. Scary.

In Anusara they say that the back of the body represents the unknown (and of course for most of us the back of the body literally IS unknown, unless you happen to have a 360 degree mirror in your home, or have ever been on that Tim Gunn show where he makes a 3D computer mock-up of your body) and so for most of us dropping backwards in space is pretty f-ing freaky. (This is also what makes inversions pretty difficult for many of us...upside down AND backwards! Yikes!)

But, people, I have had a nearly daily practice for over 3 years now,and knowing myself and my own body there is no reason for me not to be able to dropback. Except for fear.

Fear, fear, fear, fear, fear, fear, feeeeear. (My arch nemesis).

So, this evening, as I was winding up my practice with some backbends, I suddenly decided that NOW was the time. I decided that, damnit, it is my 29th birthday, I have been stuck at work all day...I am going to overcome this one tiny pesky little fear. I figured, if I can start here, on this first day of my 29th year...if I can just conquer one small fear...well, the sky's the limit.

I stood up, heart pounding.

I started sort of sticking my toe in the water, bending back, bending back, bending back...whoop! Right back up to standing again. No go.

Heart pounding more, now.

Little voice says, "oh, come on, you don't need to do this today!"

Other little voice joins in, "yeah, who's gonna know? You'll do it later. You'll do it next time you're in class...when there's a teacher."

New little voice, "you could do it at home...maybe you can have Paul come stand near you when you do it, just to spot you."

First little voice again, "yeah, you should really have someone else there. Just so you don't hurt yourself. What if you hurt yourself!? What then? You're all alone in this little gym..."

And then, BIG voice chimes in, "No! Hush. I'm doing it."

I'm doing it, goddamnit. Heart still pounding. I breathe. I settle in to my feet. I set myself up--thighs back, tailbone down, ground through my legs. I lift up and start opening up to the sky and then behind me. I breathe. And then...like magic...like I've been doing it my whole life, I dropback into a perfect, silent, backbend.

I immediately get up and do it again, giddy, so that I know it wasn't a fluke and then, when I am finally on my back and on the floor, I pump my two fists in the air and let out a little whoop.

I did it!

And when I stand up I am shaking from the exhiliration and the adrenaline and for the second time today I well up with emotion. I did it. I did it. No one there to see it. No safety net. I did it.

I am twenty-freakin'-nine years old and I can do anything! Well...I can at least do one thing today that I was scared to do yesterday, and that is a huge birthday victory.

All my love,
YogaLia