Hitting vasisthasana...

(a quick shout-out to the flicker page I keep stealing these awesome Mr. Pretzel photos from.... So awesome.)

I'm having a bit of a Mary Dana love-fest at the moment, as she keeps blowing my mind with her Sutra-liciousness and kick-ass sequencing. I wish she had a website to which I would direct everyone...I'll just say you can find her at Laughing Lotus where she will teach classes you can sing to...

Okay, so, as I've said previously here in Shanti-Town, I clean mornings at the yoga studio once a week, and they can often be a little difficult for my brain. Meaning: I tend to go on little mental journeys best left un-taken. And always after I am done cleaning I reward myself with an early morning class, which can, depending on how tight a ball I've managed to wind myself into while scrubbing toilets, be much needed and sometimes as mind-heavy as the rest of the morning. Most often I take the AM classes with the lovely Mary Dana, who spares no amount of Navasana or Utkatasana or crazy arm-balancey-ness, despite the early AM hours. For which I love her (though my body sometimes does not).

Yesterday morning, MD was in fine form, and she started the class by talking about struggle. She talked about embracing struggle, about making friends with struggle and using it to open you instead of moving away from it. Yes, fine. Good. Heard it. Know it's right. Have no idea how to do it. At least, not with the really difficult stuff. Every time I'm having a hard time and I tell myself I have to "embrace" my struggle, I just end up digging my hands into it and rubbing it all over my face. Which is not, I don't think, the same thing.

So, as I'm sitting there with my eyes closed, dutifully moving into child's pose and on to all-fours, she says to the class, "So right now, maybe your struggle is to overcome fatigue. So, see what you can do with that. See if you can open up to that. Breathe into that."

And I think, "huh." I hadn't thought of that--that my body is fatigued in these early morning classes. I felt around. It is. Of course it is. And it suddenly made sense to me why I struggle more with worry and round-and-round thoughts in these AM classes--maybe my body IS tired and in my effort to avoid that feeling of fatigue I am retreating into my mind. Alright, I thought, I'll work with this. My struggle is to overcome fatigue. I am going to embrace that struggle.

First thing, I started to tune in to the sensations of fatigue--the muddiness in my joints, the heavy feeling in my calves and arms, the weight and gracelessness of my limbs and back. I started to examine all the machinations of that feeling, and to really let the poses work those areas. Fatigue was my point of focus and every pose was about speaking to, communicating with and ultimately relieving that feeling of fatigue. Two things happened because of this newly focused effort:

1. My mind quieted.

2. I had an awesome practice.

Because I had such a specific and body-oriented point of focus, the class became very personal and I felt myself really working moment-t0-moment within it. I found that my fatigue dissipated very quickly and a deep connection to the workings of my body during the practice took it's place. And because of that, I finally stuck a real Vasisthasana (toe in hand people, toe in hand!) in a way that I never, ever have.

This pose has always proved problematic for me, as I have tight hamstrings and even tighter groins. It has taken a long time for me to find truly straight legs in a lot of poses that require it and I am still just inching my way towards Hanuman and Wide Angle Seated Forward Bend. So most often when I have tried for the toe-in-hand variation of Side Plank (Vasisthasana), I have been woefully contorted, my leg bent and my spine all out of alignment. But because I was moving moment to moment in this practice, when we moved into Vasisthasana I found that my leg (and I) just opened up right into it. I found for the first time the quality of big exuberant opening in the pose. Like flying.

And as we wrapped up class, oh so fatigue-free, I felt like I finally understood a little better what it means to embrace one's struggle. It means, I think, not to think and think and think on struggle. Not to grudgingly tell myself that I'm going to play nice and be friends with struggle. Not to pretend that struggle isn't there and paste a smile on my face (while I'm busy struggling all the same) and not to cave in the face of struggle--like, say, deciding I'm fatigued and there's nothing I can do about it so I'll just suffer through my class--but it is to acknowledge that there IS struggle, and then to engage in a conscious effort to RELIEVE the struggle. Not to add to it by judging or badmouthing it, but to gently mediate and resolve. I am fatigued, I am struggling with fatigue--I am pulling away from my body and into my mind--how can I work with this? How can I USE what I am doing/thinking/feeling, to address and relieve this fatigue?

And contained within this approach is an acknowledgment and HONORING of the struggle, because I'm not saying oh screw you, fatigue! You're always fatigued! Stop being so fatigued! And I'm not saying, poor little fatigued me. I'll never feel awake again. My muscles have failed me and I'm less of a person because of it. No, I'm saying--okay, there's a struggle happening here. I can not alter the fact of fatigue, but I can try to work with it. To USE it to open and feel and move forward.

I have heard again and again, in so many different forms and forums, that EVERYTHING is an opportunity. That, if you can change your perspective, all of those things in your life which cause you pain or which you struggle with can be the exact thing that leads you to greater opening, greater peace, and I really believe that's true. I am really bad at DOING it, but I really believe it's true. Joseph Campbell talks about how the things that threaten us in our lives are dragons, and that so often we run away when we see the dragon, but what we don't know is that the dragon is guarding the entrance to a cave, and in that cave is all our treasure.

1 struggle down, 6,000,000,000 to go.

Love to you all,

-YogaLia

Letting Be and Letting Go...

The other day before class Edward (who I love and adore and would follow anywhere to be taught yoga by!) asked us to share our own personal "sutras"--(as September was Sutra Month at the Lotus)--little anecdotes or sayings which we had found inspiring or helpful recently. Edward's was:

"If you're in control, you're probably not going fast enough" - Mario Andretti

Some others:

"Don't rely on miracles, expect them."

"No matter how it looks, everything is going well for me."

"Whatever it is, I'll take it."

The one that I offered up had actually been said by Favorite Teacher Mary Dana a few days prior. She was in the room when I called it out. It was: "In order to let something go, you first have to let it be."

Let me repeat that...

"In order to let something GO, you first have to let it BE."

Now, I don't know if this will resonate for y'all, but it knocked my little socks off. The number of things on my list of things which I must "let go" of, including (laugh if you will) the incessant prescription for how and why to let things go, is immense. And does not shorten easily, if you know what I mean. Perhaps this is because balling my fists together and screwing up my face and demanding that my brain LET GO is not the most efficient way in which to mentally houseclean.

Sometimes I think that my brain is one of those dogs that really only picks up its toys when there is the possibility of a tug-a-war. There's me, on one end of a chewed up old dog toy (much used, much much used) all covered in slobber, pulling like mad...and on the other is my dog-mind, loving nothing so much as the battle. Who will pull the hardest? Who will pull the longest? Who will pull whom across the floor? Who will bare their teeth first to scare the other into submission? It's a lose-lose situation of course, both of us just tired and slobbery by the end. And me feeling like an idiot for having expended so much energy on a game that easily could have been avoided. Because the thing I always remember (too late) is that if I had just put the toy down in the first place...if I had just let the dog (mind) have it, to do with what it will...soon it would have grown tired and bored of the poor decimated thing and it would have abandoned it on the floor with all its other chew toys.

So I suppose another sutra could be: "No matter how many times I say "LET GO!", it's actually my job to put down the chew toy." Or something like that.

This morning I ran into Favorite Teacher Mary Dana before class and she called out to me, "Lia! How's the letting be going?" I told her it was going alright, but that I found that I was too often instead demanding of myself that I let things go.

To which she replied, "Oh yeah, that's the best way to hang on to something forever."

To Think On...

Just got finished reading an interview with John Records, who heads up an organization called Comittee on the Shelterless, or COTS. It's an organization that provides shelter and rehabilitation services for the homeless (including yoga, meditation and energy work) in Petaluma, California, and the following has stuck with me all morning:

"I bring my own shortcomings and challenges to this work, some of which are rooted in my early life and losses. But to the extent that I've offered my being, my hands, my body, and my mind in service, that largely displaces fretful feelings. Last week I was working with a guy who's an abuse survivor and is seriously ill. He was about to undergo another round of medical treatment, and I said to him, "I don't know how long you're going to live, but I know you're going to be OK." That perspective echoes through all of this: we're all going to be OK.

In the book How Can I Help? Ram Dass talks about looking at someone who's dying from AIDS and thinking, This person is doing interesting work. That's true for everyone: were all doing the work of our lives. Homeless people are doing their work. COTS staff are doing their work. I'm doing my work. We're all works in progress, learning the hard way how to be more comfortable and happy, on a planet for slow learners."

-John Records, from an interview in The Sun.

Springing and Pulling

Had my very first ever pilates session with Kyra Miller at Spring and Pulley last night in Brooklyn. I have wanted to try Pilates for quite awhile now, particularly as my yoga practice has advanced and I have noticed a distinct lack of strength in my core as compared to other places. I am blessed with a naturally athletic body, one that builds muscle quickly, but the strength of my arms and legs in particular allows me to "cheat" in certain asanas by over-compensating with quads and biceps when I should be working on the articulation of smaller interior muscles. But most of all, my desire to stick a handstand and a forearm stand without the aid of the wall or a spotter has led me on a quest to tighten my core.

My brother (the martial artist/personal trainer extraordinare) gave me this crazy core bubble thing, which is essentially an inflated oval that you can stand/sit/balance/do crunches and push-ups on and which forces you to engage your core to stop the wobbling of the bubble beneath you. It's pretty cool, but I've not been super motivated to use it. Instead I just pull it out of one storage spot, remind myself I ought to be using it, and move it to another.

Pilates, however, I had a feeling might be more up my alley.

Kyra is an actress and went to the same college that I did (she for grad school, I for undergrad) and has recently opened up Spring and Pulley after teaching at other places for the last many years. It's a pretty dreamy set-up. The walls are a cool calming green and faces a quiet backyard in Carroll Gardens so it feels like a real respite from the city. I had the whole place to myself and she walked me through some basic mat exercises, on "the convertible" and then moved me up to the spring whatchamahoos on the fancy spring and pulley machine. ("the reformer"?) Heavenly. Totally heavenly. One, I am a sucker for anything that lets me stick my feet in rubber bands and move myself back and forth on a rolley-board. That is like...there's nothin' better! (These are all highly technical terms, mind you), but the best was the detailed discussions of alignment and musculature that went along with all the exercises. Kyra is supremely kind and encouraging and also very sensitive to the machinations of one's body. The kind of alignment instructions she gave me were so tiny and so precise, that each one pulled me deeper and deeper into the workings of my subtle body as I tried to release here and engage there.

Note: looking at Kyra makes a person want to do pilates. All the time. She has a gorgeous pilates bod, strong and supple and wide-open, so I was completely game for whatever she asked me to do. If I can have abs like hers...

Anyhow, the most thrilling part came at the very beginning and very end of our session when Kyra had me stand in front of a mirror and she very gently encouraged my body into a more natural standing alignment. As she put her hands on my back I felt my ever-jutting front ribs relax down, my tailbown scoop a bit under and my entire torso move forward until it clicked into what I can only assume was it's proper alignment and a shiver of ecstasy (no joke) fluttered across my chest and down my body. It was if all my musculature was calling out, THAT'S IT! RIGHT THERE! I felt as wide-open and relaxed and solid as I ever have standing on my two feet, and also felt exposed and vulnerable and as if I was leaning imperceptibly forward (this, from years of pulling back, sticking out my ribs and curling my pelvis under, I assume). It felt so good all I wanted to do was stand there, so that none of my muscles would ever forget what it felt like.

The discovery of this dichotomy (ribs out, shoulders back, pelvis under) at the beginning of our session helped us both focus on encouraging my body to relax and open during the work so that I could redirect my focus to my deep down abdominal muscles and urge them to pick up some of the slack. Again and again the key to finding my alignment in an exercise came when I remembered to relax and open my back ribs, letting the whole of my rib cage settle more naturally into my body. Each time I did this, breathe flooded my body.

So many correlations began to unfold for me--the feeling I have sometimes of never being able to really let a breath go, as if I am just endlessly inhaling, until I have to let it all out of me in a big shuddering sigh, the feeling I have often of emotions getting "stuck" in my upper chest and ribs, and a nagging compressed feeling in the muscles of my back around my rib cage and shoulders.

Kyra even showed me a couple small adjustments to make in my down-dog in order to continue to encourage a truly long and open spine, and today in yoga class I could not wait to test it all out. Gently, gently throughout class I brought my attention to my spine and the backs of my ribs and asked that area to open and relax, and as I did, my front ribs settled in, my spine extended, and breath flooded through my body. Again and again--in standing poses, in sitting poses, in twists--as my pelvis and ribs and head lined up in a more organic way, I could actually feel the line of energy extend from my sacrum to the crown of my head. Best of all, I felt truly IN my body, not jamming my chest out to show how "open" my heart is, but soft and strong and long in my spine.

Yoga Practice, meet your new friend...Pilates.

Thank you, Kyra!

Effort.

While speaking to a dear friend about a certain tendency I have (both in life and in art) to get caught up in my own feelings and fears about "how well I am doing", she offered me the following analogy: (oh wise woman that she is)...if I were sitting here with you, she said, and all I was thinking about was how best to advise you, what the right thing to say was, what the best way to say it was, if I was helping you enough or in the right way...I wouldn't have all the ideas and images and feelings that I am having now. And I wouldn't be here with you.

Favorite teacher Bryn quoted Osho the other day regarding effort...in a nutshell: Effort might get you to New Delhi, but it won't get you to the infinite.

And yesterday in class, a newer teacher, one whom I never taken from before, speaking on ahimsa (non-violence): make a vow to stop harming yourself, she said, and take all of that energy that you have been using every day to criticize and berate, and use it to do all those things you want to do, but beat yourself up for not having done already.

May we all give up just a little bit of effort today.

That's my wish for you.

Namaste,
YogaLia

Mind vs. Body

I can not think my way into presence...



I can not think my way into presence...



I can not think my way into presence...


(but man oh man I'm gonna try)

Back to Basics

Showed up to the studio on Saturday all ready to take a pre-rehearsal class and found out that I had inadvertently shown up for a Basics class! Heaven forbid!

I sort of stood in front of the sign-in sheet and stared at it, my ego railing against the idea of taking a, gasp, beginner's class (how will anyone KNOW how advanced I really am?!) but unable to justify taking off my yoga pants and going outside to kill time for two hours before rehearsal, yoga-free, when, after all, here I was, dressed and ready to go...and it was a class, after all...

So, I buttoned up my pride and found a place in the room, determined to be in the class with humility (and not a hoity-toity "i'm too good for this beginner stuff" attitude), which was not as easy as it might seem. In fact, I felt myself torn between two poles throughout the class: 1. not wanting to SEEM arrogant by modifying too many poses into their more difficult form, or by moving too quickly or being too much of a show-off, lest anyone should feel shown-up or slighted, and 2. very much WANTING to show-off and prove myself as better or more capable.

Does this sound like a familiar struggle to anyone? I mean, jesus christ, that is perhaps the most succint description of my entire LIFE's struggle: on the one hand not wanting to be too big, in order to not hurt any feelings or flare the insecurities of others, and on the other hand, wanting nothing but to prove to everyone how much better and more talented I am than everyone else, motivated of course by small feelings on my part. (God, I hope this sounds familiar to someone, or else it's just a really embarrassing admission...)

In the course of this small battle with the two poles of my ego I realized the following things:

1. That I am not perfect. Shocker. And that in fact many of the poses which I pride myself on my rock-solid ability with are perhaps lacking in some foundation principles. Hence the wobbling.

2. That sometimes going slowly is actually much more difficult (and more worthwhile) than speeding through.

3. That humbling experiences are good for a person. Namely, me.

4. That I have come a long way, but...

5. That it is important, once a person has come a long way, for that person (me) to remember that there was a point at which that person (me) began, a point at which some of the things that that person can do really well and with a lot of ease now, did not come so easily. In fact, there was a point at which there were many things that person (me) couldn't do at all, and so that person should not pretend that she is any better than those people who can't do those things that she can do. Because that would be really ass-holey.

6. Going back to basics once in awhile, can only be a good thing.